The wife loves this photo. In it I look like a real jerk. With my Star Bucks coffee and my Hawaiian shirt visting the peons as they sew our dresses in the middle of a busy workday.
If you click on the photo and enlarge it you can see this dude working at his machine giving me the evil eye. He is just itching to gut me like a fish. Right behind him his wife is looking distraught. "Don't stare at the gringo. He might be la mingra. Pay attention to what you are doing. You just sewed that zipper shut. Some Marine will have to pull down his pants to piss. Aie chiruaraha!"
7 comments:
Actually, he is pissed because he figured out that you're the gringo who keeps bashing Farrah!!
Could that look mean something else? Hows your Gaydar?
A magneta filter will clear up that fluorescent lighting hue. I'm not sure what would help that shirt.
Exploiter of the working class!
I grew up in East New York, where the women in every other house or apartment worked on and off in piece work or piece goods factories to supplement the family income. Not my mother. But her parents had a little hole in the wall grocery store they buried themselves in all day every day to raise five girls at what would be called the poverty level today. My dads parents were "middle class," which meant they had two pots to piss in instead of one. They had a book store. Same thing: all day every day. My dad worked in a paint factory to put himself through college. That's all. No big speech. All I know is there was no bitterness in any of them. Or if there was they made the decision not to be bitter. Because they were better than that. And they were.
'Can I have your autograph, Mr. Clooney'?
That's Mr. Gooney to you pal!
Pretty sure I look older than you, Troop.
[weeps]
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