The owner of Dreadlock Pasta tells you that you're not allowed to serve any kind of pasta since there's the word pasta in the name of her business.
--Bigness chased her down the street with the machette for that one. Any of you initiated into Belize know which crazy house I'm taking about. I changed the name to protect the guilty.
I'm in the hardware store yesterday and the drunk policeman (there's one in every small town) told me that he heard Bigness bawling like a cow the night before. I guess that meant he heard us gettin busy - I didn't realize the acoustics in our apartment were so good. I've stopped getting embarrassed about this stuff anymore. I answered him back with... "Oh, that musta been when I was whipping him with a stick" Big guffaws from everyone in the store. I didn't even turn pink. I didn't have time to chat because I was racing around trying to get all my chores done, pick up cargo from the airstrip, send packages on the water taxi, on my bike, and my pants were giving me plumbers butt.
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4 comments:
Oh, how I wish I could be quick with them snappy come backs, hahaha, that was gooooood.
Life on that island! I just read your recent posts :-D
Lee, what a great island life!
How nice to be "open" about stuff.
You'll have to ask the Pasta Rasta if she speaks Italian!
I never knew Pastafarians complained so much. I think she needs to eat more space cake and be happy.
GG- I'm not usually good with come backs at all, but occasionally I can let one rip that's a stunner.
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