No She Di'int

My little brother is getting married, finally. King Ralph is in the wedding, so we went today to get his tux fitted.

The gal at the Men's Warehouse was a trip! When I told her King Ralph needed to be fitted for a tux she motioned us to a desk in the back then preceded to ask if he was the father of the bride. I couldn't control myself, I laughed out loud, hard. I am still trying to decide if she thought I was King Ralph's daughter. If so, compliment to me dis to him. Then she sang Madonna 80's songs out loud while she typed in the information. I think that was to sooth us before she told us the cost of a tux nowadays is equal to Obama's economic recovery package. Excuse me while I sell a little blood plasma. Good thing the black-shiny-man-made-material-guaranteed-to-make-your-feet-sweat-shoes were part of the package, otherwise I would have had to sell off a kidney. (Oh better yet when I mentioned that type of material makes the feet sweat and smell she she obliged to mention her "man feet smell".) When I asked her if she was serious and she replied yes I said "I think I'm gonna crap my pants." I felt like screaming HELLO THE DUDE IS WEARING THE TUX FOR LIKE 8 HOURS. I am going to make him wear the tux to bed to get our money's worth.

Well I am awful tired I think I should crawl in bed--next to the "father of the bride".