Woooo – HOO, y’all, what a weekend! Triple-Venue Saturday went GREAT, I think everyone at both the weddings/receptions was pleased as punch. Plus, I LURVE to overhear gossip about how Chuckweasel and I are “the best DJ in the area” (yes, apparently “DJ” is used to describe the unit as a whole — there’s never an “s” on it to indicate we are actually 2 separate beings!). So, overall weekend: EXHAUSTING, but WORTH IT!
Then when we were taking the U-Haul back, I was browsing in the “impulse-buy” moving supplies they have up by the counter, and I saw it. They now have packing tape in both red and green! And at first, I was like, “Oh, how festive, you can move at Christmas!” Then it hit me — IT’S DIVORCE TAPE.
Stick with me here: Say I’m thowin’ yo’ worthless ass out (don’t even act like you don’t know why). I put the RED tape — signifying “stop” — on my shit, you put the green — signifying “go” — on yours. And stay away from the Rush compilation, you thieving whore, I bought that before we even met!
Also, ’cause I know you been waitin’ for it, I have created a new game/scientific theorem. It works along the lines of “Dead or Canadian?” Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you…
GAY OR FLORIDIAN?
You know how you see a man, and he’s really put together wearing linen or what-have-you, and his house is all open and airy with flower arrangements and shit, and all his gestures and mannerisms are just a LEEETLE bit over the edge onto the feminine side? If he’s from anywhere OUTSIDE Florida, he’s gay. But for Florida itself, you pretty much have to meet his husband to be sure!
I’m also working on a corrollary: “Dyke or Seattle?” You get the picture… Flannel shirt and boots here in Wes’ BYGAWD Virginny? Buy her a drink. Same outfit in the Pacific Northwest? Her husband’s a logger and he’s gonna beat your ass.