Thursday, March 28, 2013

A florist, an oyster man, and a seamstress walk into a bar. The florist says to the seamstress . . .

I don't want to hear the rest of this because no doubt it is at my expense. God forbid the pit master, Realtor, or any member of the band happen to be sitting at the bar when the former come in. I can only imagine the hoops and hollers, snickers and snorts. After all, there is little doubt watching me bumble around as mother of the bride has been  most entertaining.

Meanwhile, I cannot get in touch with Mack with a question I have. So I call the caterer and ask her. "Do you know if Mack wants flowers on the bar or not?"  Her answer,"I'm not sure. But, I'm going to see him and the florist tonight. I'll ask them." I should have figured - Mack's our bar tender.

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