I come home starving for dinner only to find the wife grilling chicken breasts in Curlys hickory smoked BBQ sauce. They are to die for on a toasted bun with sharp shedder cheese. I stand guarding these beauties until I hear the words of “Honey please fix up the sandwiches” No problem, I scoop up the chicken and start preparing the sandwiches. As it is no one is standing in line so the first one has my name on it especially since I probably lost 3 pounds while waiting. As I am making my sandwich instead of smelling the once sweet hickory BBQ I smell more of clothes freshener. I fight off the odd smell coming from my taste of heaven and layer on the cheese. Once again the smell starts to smell much stronger like Frebreez. I sniff my shirt cuff which seems to be the source of freshnes since BBQ doesn’t taste like Frebreeze.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Frebreez is not BBQ Sauce
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1 comment:
Bolltron rulez! I'm glad your life sucks so bad, so that ours can be so entertaining. Never stop sharing these tepid tales of suburban tragedy. By the way, it would be most excellent if you shared more stories in which you are not just inconvenienced but humiliated. Even if you had to make them up, which I know you never do. Those are the moments we live for, dude!
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