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"Who are you?" "I'm little latin loopie lou,

  • "Who are you?" "I'm little latin loopie lou, would you like to have a hug? "Not, exactly." "Ok, who are you?" "I'm a looper."

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  • The Latin Lupus Foundation sponsored happy hours every Friday night down at the VFW. Everyone with lupus was invited to come & party & dance their troubles away. Louie hugged

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  • damn near everybody that night. Damn, he was tanked! But hey, the LLF raised over six Gs slinging drinks and Louie's phone was full of great shots. As he scanned through them

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  • he was horrified at the discovery of one shocking guest: his mother. Louie hadn't seen her in 6 years. Why would she be at the party? And why was she dressed -- so -- ewwww. Now he

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  • Knew she wouldn't listen to him about such issues. Louis pretended not to notice as he greeted her. "Well, hello, Mum." She seemed disoriented and Louis asked about her health. She

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  • mumbled something about tantric position and then stopped with brief panic in her voice before looking at me & asking, "Did I just say something aloud?". That's when I got worried.

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  • You see, my wife has been gradually losing her mind. I love her, and that's why it hurts to hear her blurt out some errant, stray thought in inappropriate venues. She can't help

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  • it any more than we reasonables can help seeing the value of being compliant and convivial for the sake of the greater good. I can't sleep, and TBH I think my wife is a threat to

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  • the neighborhood kids, since they keep disappearing and my wife keeps simultaneously planting new flower beds in the yard. She calls each a "tribute" to the missing brat. I do not

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  • see how planting flowers could replace their horribly annoying presence, but whatever keeps her out of the back shed where I kept the bodies works just fine with me.

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