Last night, the Beloved was returning from a two day stay in Austin, having played in a golf tournament. We decided to meet at Hooters. Because nothing says I’ve Missed You like deep fried wings and pickles.

As we were wrapping up our meal, I was telling the Beloved all the things missed in world news whilest she had been playing with the boys. Like Paris Hilton being released from jail.  It was just as I was half-heartedly conveying Paris’ intention to build a halfway house that our buxom, overly eye-shadowed and barely legal waitress arrived to clear the table. And some of these girls, I’m convinced, upon hiring, unknowingly have sections of their brains removed and a chip implanted programming them to lean over the table, squeezing at the elbows, and chat. And no matter how this looks, I SWEAR, I only go there for the wings and pickles.

Going along with my chip implantation theory, I wasn’t too surprised when, after wiping the table with her cleavage, she interjected “Oh my gawd. I don’t have cable or anythiiiing? So I don’t know what’s goin’ ooooon? What happennned?” And yes, everything that she said ended with the inflection of a question.

“Oh, I was just saying how Paris is going to build a halfway house for released convicts.”

And because they are programmed not only to Talk, but to do so at the IQ of their bust shoe size, she said “oh, what’s that? Like for when they get out of jail?”

“Yes, a transitional home for them to acclimate to civilian life.”

“Ooooh, woowww! I wonder what that’s like.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been in jail”, I say.

“REALLY?”

(What? Do I look such a way that that would be SURPRISING??)

“Yes, really.” I say.

At this point I’m thinking she must be fairly new because THIS IS NOT A QUESTION YOU ASK OF STRANGERS.  When she turns to the Beloved and says “Have you been to jail?”

To which the Beloved replies “Yes.”

“Wooow!  But it was something small riiiight?  Like a parking ticket or something?”

“No.”

“Oh!  Like for beating someone up in the street?”  WTF?

 “I’ve beat people up before, but never gone to jail for it”, the Beloved said facetiously.  Have I mentioned that the Beloved weighs a little over a buck and in the right light you can see the halo around her head?

“Oooooh, woowww!”, the robot says. “I thought I was going to go to jail today because like I got a ticket in Austin like a few weeks agoooo? And I didn’t go to court ’cause it was like, in Austiiiin? And then today? I hydroplaned? And I hit the car in front of me? And I didn’t have my insurance ’cause I was in a rental? And I thought they’d pull up my information and it would have like, ‘warrant for your arrest’? And then I was afraid I was going to have to go to jail, in the rain? And I was wearing my Hooters uniform? And that would have been weird going to jail in that.”

I’ll say.

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