Tonight we went out to dinner and I've discovered that, like some of my older family members, I become a food-magnet in public places. It must be some sort of bizarre genetic trait--the ability to accumulate portions of one's meal across one's shirt in restaurants. At home I can eat pasta with marinara sauce in a white shirt and come away spotless, but walk through the door of a restaurant and I am guaranteed to go home looking like I tried to eat soup with a fork.
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1 comment:
I am staring at the coffee stain on my dress shirt right now. How did that get there!?
Your Da.
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