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by Rich "The Troubadour" Limacher (by permission)
RWOG # 6 {this was originally Number 16}
Ingelhook Wineries present...
REAL WOMEN OF GENIUS
{Real gals of geeeeeene-yuss}
Today we raise our glass to you, Missus Cell-Phoning, Makeupping, Rearview-Mirror-Gawking Terror on the Highways.
{Missus Theeeese Are The Oh Sooooo Necessss-ssssities of Life!}
All right, so you left a little late this morning and you're in a hurry and you know the way and so does your car. What could possibly be the matter with putting your makeup on while steering with your inner thighs at eighty-five miles per hour?
{Whoa! The guy in front's onnnnnnnly doing sixxxxty!!}
Phone calls? Sure. You *have to* call the office--to tell them you'll be late! And you couldn't possibly set foot in the outer lobby looking like THAT, now could you?
{"Whyyyyyy are all these other callll-ers beep-ing me?"}
We totally understand. Now you MUST change that dentist appointment--because you'll have to work late to make up the lost time--and that means your kids will have to find another ride to band camp, the dry cleaners might close before you get there, your cosmic husband will have to wait on dinner, and that dufus walking alongside the highway will just have to call his own damn ambulance. Because you CAN'T STOP!
{Hey LAAAAAAADY! Your front wheel is toh-talllllllllly off the pave-ment!!!!!}
So pull your cork gently out of a properly chilled bottle of White Zinfandel tonight before dinner, O Madam Speaker of the House, because on this night, of all nights, you are really going to have something to celebrate: a coroner's inquest. But of course your delightful family's evening meal might just need its candles all lit and your embroidered napkins all placed on a brand-new table: inside the county lock-up.
{Iffff you call quick-ly, your hubbbbbbby could still pick up the chicken!}
And just think: you won't have to hurry. There's a pay phone in the hallway, and now also a cute little make-up mirror/fragment stuck right above the stainless steel sink inside your almost-Good-Housekeeping-Seal-of-Approval'd new jail cell.
{Missus CELL-Phoning, Makeupping, Rearview-Mirror-Gawking Terror on the Highways!}
White Zinfandel yuppie wine: we don't drink it ourselves; we'd rather just guzzle beer.
( O_O )
Yours troubly,
The Troubadour
Yankee Folly of the Day:
How come ya never see any wine bottles in those ditches alongside your highway? There are always those miniature bottles of hard liquor and about fifty quadrillion ugly empty beer cans, but never EVER any White Zinfandel. Oh, and BTW, you'll never see any from "Ingelhook Wineries" either! ;)
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