Friday night my husband was hanging out with hookers. Yep, hookers. Honest to goodness ladies of the night. I'm not sure if there was a red light involved, but possibly. There was some screaming, one girl getting put in to a cab, a guy running a poker game where he thought he would have a bunch of guys in suits and girls serving drinks (and other services) while he took a cut of everything.
It resulted in one pissed off guy because apparently the girl didn't get the memo on what services a hooker was supposed to supply (and I ain't talkin' no kissing on the lips either), a bunch of liquored up cable techs and the "house" paying people to just shut the fuck up.
Oh yea, only around here.
Now rest assured, my darling husband was just hanging out watching all of the drama unfold while eating some chicken and drinking a beer (or 5). He just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time for all of this. I was at home sleeping, although I did get woken up by the screaming when they had to put the first girl in a cab. I just figured it was another domestic dispute. For some reason people around here like to go out in to the middle of the road to fight, making sure to stand at least 2 driveways apart, so that everyone on the street can hear them.
Have I mentioned that I need to move?
In other news...things I didn't think I'd have to say.
"Aiden, please put your brothers balls away"
"Keep your hands on your own slinkies!"
"Stop dippin' in our conversation"
1 comment:
Klassy ;-)
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