Rubbing salt in the wound
We went to dinner the other night and a very pregnant young lady was seated next to me. Throughout the meal she frequently referred to the baby as "she" and as the mom-to-be seemed to want to talk about all-things-baby, I asked her what girl names were being considered. "Lola," the expectant mother replied. "Ahhh" I said and then SANG "I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said 'Lola' L-O-L-A Lola Lo lo lo lo Lo - la."
And the young lady replied, "No, Lola. From that song. You know, '...she walked like a woman but talked like a man. Oh my Lola la-la-la-la Lola.'"
I am painfully aware that I cannot sing. But DAMN. Really?
And the young lady replied, "No, Lola. From that song. You know, '...she walked like a woman but talked like a man. Oh my Lola la-la-la-la Lola.'"
I am painfully aware that I cannot sing. But DAMN. Really?
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