You might have to be related, or you might have to have been there, or you might have to be in the mood we were in yesterday, to find these funny. So be it.
Cell phone call to Matt.
“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
‘Where are you?”
“In the Garment District.”
I hung up and turned to Diane. “The Garment District? In Boston? Where is that?” Give the boy a car and you never know where he’ll go. It wasn’t until Matt and friends arrived home late last night, and Hil Burgin walked in wearing a satin red jacket with pink sunglasses, that I learned the Garment District is a store that sells clothes from the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s.
“I was talking to Lois today. I asked her, ‘What do they call us?’ “
Flo could hardly end the sentence, she was laughing so hard, and she almost couldn’t get the punch line out.
Diane and I were both thinking, “residents.”
“Lois said, ‘Inmates.’ “
We put the old pads back on, promised to get together next Saturday to finish the job with the correct pads, and then I took the Honda out for a screeching skid test. Just to be sure we put them back on correctly. They are, after all, my son’s fu*king brakes, and he was about to drive all the way to the Garment District.