On Saturday, I dragged The Big Daddy to an estate sale. To me this is the most fun a person can have. To The Big Daddy this is like prepping for a colonoscopy.
I had checked out the sale the day before with the intent of going back when things were 50% off, so I knew exactly where the goods were that I wanted. I made my pile and after The Money Lady added it up The Big Daddy started taking it to the car.
While I was writing my check she said, “You were here yesterday, weren’t you?” Yes.
“We talked about you after you left.” You did?
“Yes, cuz you look just like Liz Taylor.” Bwahahahahahaha…...
“You do. People must tell you that all the time.” Actually never. Ever.
When The Big Daddy came back in the house I said you’re not going to believe who these people think I look like. You could say that he wasn’t in the mood. That he looked like he wanted to shoot somebody me. That it was over for him five miles ago when he put the key in the ignition.
Are we done here, he said, putting a halt to the celebrity look-alike conversation.
Gotta go New BFF. Thanks for making my day. Sorry Mr. T. put the ix-nay on the fun-nay.
Liz Taylor married seven different men. If I’m going to make it to the finish line with one, I’ll have to leave him at home when I’m rummaging through dead people’s stuff.