2 words…sounds like…grass pole…
Every night, we sit on the coach, watching TV and surfing. I’ll rub her feet…she’ll play with my…hair. Finally the question comes up,
“You ready to go to bed?”
Last night, after the “yes” answer comes back, She gets up to turn off the porch light. As she limp/walks back across the room, my sinister wit took over. I felt it happen, but couldn’t stop it.
“Don’t tell me…um…John Wayne!”
It was funny in my head…
November 8th, 2007 at 4:24 pm
Which coach are we sitting on? Saban? Tuberville? Maybe Spurrier?