Muttering, Stuttering & Suffering
Cement it!
Sometime ago, I knew of this acquaintance that emigrated to the states. I caught up with her a spit and a hump dogs years later. Anyhow, she and her bag and baggage landed in the Sunshine State, that is, Florida, the northern ultra-white part.
Yes, just in case you are wondering how I can remember such minutiae, well, I have this phenomenal memory that allows me total recall stuff that was told to me ten barks and ten bites in dogs years, but I digress.
So I chatted with this acquaintance and she told me that she married this guy that she detested, and worked with some prejudice people that she detested even more.
Her contention was that in the first place, they did not live anywhere, but he wanted to build his mother a house. In the second place, this guy would not dress into anything less that than heng pon nail or hawl up, shawl up ill-fitted clothes, and whenever he came to pick her up from her workplace; in the piece of old bruck that he drove; his shirt would be unbuttoned, out of his pants, mismatched and barely covering the tool shed.
And of course, I had to chime in my two cents piece and told her, "just don't breed for him, even if you have to pour cement into that hole"
