This was years ago, back when beauty pageants weren’t sexist,
me and the wife and our daughter and her friend Kevin were watching one, when
our daughter asked if Kevin could sleep over.
I remember glancing at my wife. “I don’t think so Hunni, I
think Kevin is too mature for that now.
They both whined, so I pointed at the screen, where Miss Alabama
was walking across the stage, and her stats (36-24-36) were listed.
“Kevin, what are those numbers?”
He paused for a moment, then said “96?” in a small voice.
I let him stay over.
Shouldn’t of…
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