Saturday, October 1, 2011


My blushing bride loves the art of negotiating. She also loves my chivalrous willingness to compromise. Unfortunately neither of us are very good at these things.

For example, when she tried to renege on her agreement to occasionally be featured as a Guest Wearer here on Shirt Of The Day I patiently explained that breaking a promise to a devoted spouse was akin to convincing a baby seal to commit suicide, thus condemning it's big wet eyed soul to baby seal hell where it would be clubbed over and over and over again for all eternity.

And anyway, if she refused I would just post the picture I have of her drooling in her sleep in lieu. She scoffed and accused me of bluffing. I showed her said picture that I have safely stored in my phone. She pouted and naively stated that I wouldn't dare. I showed her the next photo of her on the potty. She made me promise never to tell anyone about this. I agreed.

She guilefully changed her tack and fell back on her considerable feminine wiles. Her eyelashes fluttered like an epileptic butterfly as she gently caressed my smirking countenance, her lip jutting in sensual petulance. Oh she was good, effortlessly exploiting the antediluvian chink in my manly armor. She artfully tilted her head and breathed "Maybe we can hammer out a deal". Cunning, dare I say shrewd.

"Are you suggesting that we...dicker?" I countered, my eyebrows furtively popping up and down like a demented Groucho Marx.

Knowing when to quit is also not one of my strong points. Her folded arms and icy stare put to rest any notions I may have had of dickering. There was wheedling, palaver, pleading, and confabulation, but nary a dicker.

In the end my soulmate begrudgingly agreed that she would pick the shirt and I could write the text, on the condition that I not embarrass her or be rude.

So, without any further fanfare, let me introduce you to my beautiful and tolerant wife and her Good Ol' Boys! 

I like to call them Beauregard and Lucas. 

I personally think it would be in poor taste to mention her Daisy May, so I won't.

In an unprecedented display of a modicum of restraint and decorum, notice how I steered clear of the obvious Cooter joke, and avoided referring to my genitals as Boss Hogg. 

See...Negotiating and Compromise.

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