A few weeks ago, my sister and a couple other friends and I were having a cocktail down at a little pub in Gilbert MN. It was a pretty quiet evening and we were enjoying some conversation, maybe a little gossip, but nothing too exciting. Until….
…there’s this couple at the bar. You’ve seen this couple before because they seem to exist in every bar. You know, the first date duo where they have just a couple too many cocktails, neither have probably been laid for a couple of months and the chemistry is good; I mean really good. So good that they’re all touchy-feely, stealing a couple smooches and and an occasional butt squeeze. Well, the woman has an accent; I think she was from Australia or New Zealand, and she’s talking particularly loud. We’ll call here “Sheila.” I think Sheila thinks that she’s cool and that all of us small towners have probably never seen a real ‘mate’ from down under before. Sheila is actually pretty attractive–blond, decent figure, and oh-so fun. Her male counterpart was average at best, but he’s definitely amused by this exotic lady and he’s thinkin’ she might even get a little louder later.
So, all of us sitting at our little table, turn our attention on the lovely couple and we roll our eyes and poke a little fun their way. But then….
…my sister gets this look on her face of total shock. She says, in her low and teeth-clenched voice, “Oh. My. God. Look at her shoe! She has some kind of food stamps stuck to the bottom!” So I quickly turn my head and sure enough, the woman has about 25 stamps trailing her.” Immediately we start cracking up, and cracking jokes, of course. We came to the conclusion that they might just be food stamps she was saving for a late-night pizza party.(Listen, I know that there aren’t actual food “stamps” anymore. Don’t ruin our fun, ok?)
I’m not sure how the night ended. All I know is that the happy couple left. And they left with the stamps.
