The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I witnessed such a path this weekend. As I was making my way back from the mailbox, I watched a sweet little blue-haired lady slow her Cadillac, roll down the passenger window, and helpfully advise the close-cropped (black) woman and child wrapped in colorful towels that, "In this country, we wear our tops back from the pool so that our bosoms won't show." In response, the noble lady kindly overlooked the cultural condescension and said, "This is my son, those are not bosoms, and I was born & raised in Haltom City." The elderly lady, surely trying to save face, said, "He needs to lose some weight, then." That is when the Haltom City lady threw her 44 ounce Slushie at the elderly dignitary's windshield.
I hid my laughter and shock in my own voluptuous bosom as I stooped to collect my dachshund's stool in a ziploc baggie so as not to foul the grounds. My private mind speculated upon similar collections elsewhere in the world.
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