Boys in Elsa Wigs + because you all wanted to know how I look during a photoshoot...

Thursday, November 6, 2014

The day after Halloween, a still drunk frat boy/man wearing an Elsa wig came up to my sister and started relentlessly hitting on her while I stood there dumbfounded. He gawked at how beautiful she was (she is!) and asked her to run away to Canada with him and continued even after learning that she is only 16. Then he turned to me and said, "And you?! I don't know about you. I mean, ehhhh..."
I was offended then doubly offended that I was offended by a still-drunk frat boy wearing an Elsa wig. Then triply offended because he probably pulled the Elsa wig off better than I could. I MEAN.

You win some, you lose some. And yes, if he would have offered, I would have considered running away to Canada with him but only if Jeff could come and also poutine. Gravy and fries. Hi.

They don't call me the Pack Mule for nothin'. Actually no one calls me that. This is not an invitation. Don't call me the Pack Mule, please. Thank you, kindly.

Also remember how parents used to say that if you crossed your eyes for too long, your eyes would get stuck like that? I am going to tell my kids the same thing about the duck face because that train needs to stop. 


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