How I Made Mama Dog Laugh Tonight
We were out at Casa Orinda, a steak ‘n’ taters place that affects an old west ambience. There are guns on the wall, a long wooden bar, and tables emblazoned with cattle brands. It’s the sort of place you have to leave Alameda County to find.
Mama Dog had to go to the bathroom when we were leaving, and she bad me wait in the chair outside the restroom. “Look at the funny painting here,” she told me. It was the sort of painting you might find in a Las Cruces saloon in 1870. It showed a frontier bathing beauty, naked in a washtub, gazing out at the cacti and livestock. I pointed at the washtub. “At our house,” I observed, “that’s known as ‘dead possum storage.’”
Mama Dog had to go to the bathroom when we were leaving, and she bad me wait in the chair outside the restroom. “Look at the funny painting here,” she told me. It was the sort of painting you might find in a Las Cruces saloon in 1870. It showed a frontier bathing beauty, naked in a washtub, gazing out at the cacti and livestock. I pointed at the washtub. “At our house,” I observed, “that’s known as ‘dead possum storage.’”
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 10:14 PM
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