|The Big Lebowski|
This morning, I stopped off at The Bake House to pick up a fresh out-of-the-oven 7-grain artisan bread. Not the big loaf, mind you, a 3oz one which I name, "Puppy," and sometimes, "Mini." I prefer a smaller one for portion control.
Anyhow, I'm kibitzing with another customer, a woman who works at a nearby post office.
"I gotta go to a shower this Saturday out on Long Island," she complained half-heartedly.
"Oh, that's a shlep," I stated.
"Yeah, it's well worth it even though it's from one to four in the afternoon." She added, "Well, when us girls get together, it'll be wild. I can't wait for the games."
I groaned. "Tell me about those games!"
"Don't you find them a lot of fun?" she asked, puzzled.
I admitted, "The last shower I went to, I hardly knew the people. It was up here in a country club. Very chi-chi, very elegant. Everyone was quite pissed off at my responses during the games, especially those fill-in-the-blank ones."
"Why is that?"
"Because it was all about sex!"
She laughed. "Perhaps you should come to this shower! You'd have a blast with my girlfriends; they're a riot."
"Well, everyone was really pissed off at me and found all my comments inappropriate because they were dick or orgasm-related. The hostess should've known better, knowing who I am."
"That's odd," agreed the woman. "You'd think, at a wedding shower - "
"Wedding shower?" I said, incredulous. "I went to a baby shower!"
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