Tell It All, Sister. Tell It All. Oh. I Wouldn't Have Told All That.

Recently my friend Mark was at a tattoo parlor here in Houston. A rough-looking older lady who worked at the bar down the street walked in and with an accent almost exactly like Granny Clampett declared loudly “I want two tattoos on my tits.” …

On one boob she wanted a heart with “Tiff” written on it, and on the other she wanted a broken, bleeding heart. … Someone asked who “Tiff” was and Granny thought for a few seconds before finally deciding “Well, I guess she's my girlfriend”. She got a call on her cell phone just as the artist was finishing up and she started screaming indignantly “No, I am NOT at the tattoo parlor! I'm at work, dammit!”

Then she hung up and smiled smugly at her newfound entourage. “Oh that's my damned husband. … ”

Oh, it gets better. Trust me.

(Thanks, LeeSee, for the Friday Blog Round-Up. That was great.)