I grew up in a small town so I know what that is like. In a small town everybody knows everybody, a new retail store that doesn’t end in “Mart” is a big deal, and big hair is always in. Just for the record, I stopped participating in the big hair phenom when the eighties ended. Others have not been as fortunate. But I digress.
Mr. S and I were visiting some friends over the weekend who happen to live in a small town such as the one I just described. We attended church on Sunday morning and much to my relief I didn’t see as much big hair as I had planned. Perhaps Bumpits haven’t reached the masses. But the things we did see (and hear) gave us plenty to talk about. A boy named Kanut gave us our first laugh. Kanut? Really? It was explained to us by our friends that Kanut’s grandma is Swedish. Okay, fine. Guess I won’t make fun of the poor kid. But his mom’s oversized breasts hanging down to her knees is still free game. Then there was the 93 year-old woman who wore a cowboy hat that I am pretty sure had been bedazzled. Pair that with her Willie Nelson-like braids and you have small town hillbilly. Once again our friends came to the rescue of our latest victim and forced me to feel bad about my rash judgment. But only a little. And last but not least was the music chorister, looking very dapper in his suit and…wait for it…here it comes…leather vest!
Can’t wait for the next visit.
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