Iltaselailuna Joe McNallyn kirja valokuvaamisesta, mutta päivän epistola blogistaan. Samaa aihetta mietin eilen kaupan kassalla kun se edellinen rouva alkoi availla käsilaukkuaan ja etsiä lompakkoaan vasta kuullessaan summan.
Eventually, the wallets were found, and the aforementioned pizza was bought. Why do women do that? Wait for the cashier to tell them the total and have a hand out before they in turn reach for the dough? I mean, they hadda zip open these bags and begin a rummage that would make the search for the holy frikkin’ grail look as easy as a connect the dots game on a Denny’s placemat.
- - - - -
See, men don’t do that. They belly up to the counter, $20 in hand, and just fork it over. Like Robin Williams says, you get your McBurger and fries, grab your McChange and get the McFuck outta there. Maybe it’s cause we all remember our first illegal beer bought at a bar and we had no idea what it was gonna cost so we had a twenty ready to go so as not to get embarrassed by having to fish out some extra dough on the spot. Dunno. Might be genetic. Might be that chromosome right next to the one that causes Male Refrigerator Blindness.
Tuosta illegaalista oluesta tuli mieleen kouluaikainen anekdootti kun äitinsä päällystakkiin laittautunut K asteli 17-vuotiaana Autotalon Alkon tiskille ja ilmoitti napakalla nasaalilla: yks vään blaank.
Mutta se on toinen tarina. Samoin kuin tekstiilisokeuteni.
Tilaa:
Lähetä kommentteja (Atom)
Ei kommentteja:
Lähetä kommentti