Never again.
My mom tells me one of her favorite shows, "The View" is in town. She says Barbara Walters is signing copies of her book, as it turns out right down the street from my house at Barnes and Noble. Being the good son I am, I drive down to get a copy for my mom.
Now there was a line snaking all through the store consistent of many hopeless middle-aged women. Of course, there were about three other males in the store sporting that "Good God, I didn't sign up for this when I married, I hope I get back before the game is over" look.
The lady behind me strikes up a conversation and after explaining "No ma'am, my name is not Jake Thompson and I don't watch the view, I'm getting this book for my mom" about three other ladies proceed to hit on me for being a good kid. Unfortunately they looked like they would have eaten the book if they could, so I passed.
The line moved swiftly and I was given my penned copy of Mrs. Walters latest tome. Ducking the flashbulbs of a generation gone wrong of ladies, I headed next door to Whole Foods to rediscover my heterosexuality.
Three strippers in the produce section and a nine-dollar brick of cheese the size of my thumb later, I make it back home.
My mom tells me one of her favorite shows, "The View" is in town. She says Barbara Walters is signing copies of her book, as it turns out right down the street from my house at Barnes and Noble. Being the good son I am, I drive down to get a copy for my mom.
Now there was a line snaking all through the store consistent of many hopeless middle-aged women. Of course, there were about three other males in the store sporting that "Good God, I didn't sign up for this when I married, I hope I get back before the game is over" look.
The lady behind me strikes up a conversation and after explaining "No ma'am, my name is not Jake Thompson and I don't watch the view, I'm getting this book for my mom" about three other ladies proceed to hit on me for being a good kid. Unfortunately they looked like they would have eaten the book if they could, so I passed.
The line moved swiftly and I was given my penned copy of Mrs. Walters latest tome. Ducking the flashbulbs of a generation gone wrong of ladies, I headed next door to Whole Foods to rediscover my heterosexuality.
Three strippers in the produce section and a nine-dollar brick of cheese the size of my thumb later, I make it back home.
