The bro and I just got back from SAMs because he wanted to get a pumpkin to bake the seeds like he (or I should say my dad) does every year. I don't think the boy even knows how to turn on the oven. I'll get to that in another post. Anyways, we get back in the car from SAMs and when I was putting on my seatbelt I noticed I had black, gun residue all over the bottom of my WHITE shirt.
"OMG where the hell did that come from?" I asked, both myself and my bro. "Please tell me that wasn't on me this whole time..."
"I'm sure it was. It's probably from cleaning your gun," he said.
"You've got to be kidding me. How embarrassing," I said, starting to giggle at the situation. (It never fails, I always have some sort of stain on me. It's been a joke since I was in high school. Hence, why I very rarely wear the color white. White is dangerous for Jordan).
"Oh shit, I just remembered I had a pizza stain on these shorts," he said, looking down at his shorts and pointing to the encrusted patch.
We were both laughing our asses off at this point.
"People probably think we are homeless," I said.
"Yeah, we don't do laundry again until December," he added.
So, there you have it. We walked up in SAMs, looking a mess and didn't know it. Got to love it.
- LJ
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