she blah-blahed over the important part
Excerpt from an actual conversation I had with one of my friends before moving to Portland. We were debating going to a new bar in Northern Kentucky:
Me: “Susan’s band is playing at the “Blah Blah.” Do you want to go?”
Friend: “No. The Blah Blah is owned by a stripper.”
Me: “Do we not like strippers now? What’s wrong with that?”
Friend: “The stripper shot my cousin.”
I’m not kidding. Of course, after we talked I was dying to go. New bars open right and left in Northern Kentucky, but how many of them are owned by gun-toting strippers?
Me: “Susan’s band is playing at the “Blah Blah.” Do you want to go?”
Friend: “No. The Blah Blah is owned by a stripper.”
Me: “Do we not like strippers now? What’s wrong with that?”
Friend: “The stripper shot my cousin.”
I’m not kidding. Of course, after we talked I was dying to go. New bars open right and left in Northern Kentucky, but how many of them are owned by gun-toting strippers?
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