I may have mentioned once or twice before that The School Girl and I have a really long commute to and from work. It is just about 65 miles door to door each way for me. I drop my wife off on the way and pick her up when I head back to the house. Sometimes boredom and silliness reign and there is nothing that I can do.
One day last week as we headed back to the boondocks my wife decided to grab a pen and draw eyes on empty cigarette packs and fashion tongues out of the foil from inside. With the radio blaring in the background the newly dubbed Mr. Pall Mall was dancing to the beat. But then something happened that could never be erased from memory…he began to sing.
After awhile Mr. Pall Mall 2 was created and he had to get into the mix. It was like bad karaoke from Winston-Salem or something.
The worst part of it all was the intimacy. Thank God I didn’t get the pictures of the concert after party. Mr. Pall Mall and Mr. Pall Mall 2 began to dance…then they kissed…then they were trying all kinds of sexual positions. I became really uncomfortable as you can imagine. The crazy part of this whole mess is that my wife felt this all to be a normal ride home from work. Could we not have played some kind of license plate game or something? Sheesh!
