So, I'm texting with my colleague-friend the other day. After actually talking about work, the conversation turned to what might happen when my mother meets Jacob.
"I'm a little nervous," I said. My mother tends to be very judgemental, on first sight."
"What's there to judge?" she asked.
"Well, she hates tattoos."
"Then she'd hate me! I'm tattooed and not done with it!"
"He has an obvious one. In the middle of his forehead."
"Why would he do that?"
"Don't know, but there you have it."
"My latest one is on my back."
"He has one there, too," I said, blissfully unaware that I was about to contract foot-in-mouth disease. "It's large. It's actually in four parts."
A pause in the texting.
"Uhm," she said. "And what was the occasion you had to study the construction of the tattoo on his back?!?!"
I'd be sooo good under interrogation.
12 hours ago