If I haven’t told you before, G talks a lot.  He’s loud and he talks all the time…especially when he’s at work.  For whatever reason, customers like to talk to G too.  They say weird things and make comments about his arms and biceps, it’s all very strange to me.  Anyway, last week G told me this story:

He was talking to a woman when she asked what I looked like when we got married.  I’m trying not to think about WHY this was the topic of conversation and I’m hoping it’s not because G told her I look like a complete disaster now.  Wishful thinking, I’m sure.

So G said, “She looked like a blond trophy wife.”  I’m sad he didn’t say supermodel, but I’ll take trophy wife.

The woman responded, “A blond African-American?”

Umm, no.