I like riding motorcycles. When I was younger I had a dirt bike and rode all the time. When Mr. Wonderful and I got together we got a motorcycle. I'm sure if you've ever read my stuff, you've heard me talk about how much it hurt my hiney but it was still fun. On our outings, we liked to go to motorcycle rallies and look at all the different kinds of bikes that would show up. The people watching was pretty good, too.
One time we went to a rally and were perusing the booths where you can buy everything from patches for your jacket to knives to leather goods to...underwear?
Yep, you heard me - underwear. We visited a booth that sold t-shirts and hats and such and off to one side were a selection of ladies "fashion" underwear.
One thing I love the most about going to the rallies is talking to people. Heck, I'll talk to a stump if it'll talk back to me! Anyway, I always enjoy having conversations with interesting people and this particular day was no different. Now, let me preface this story with some facts about the rallies. There's usually beer drinking involved. I know, I know, drinking and driving don't mix. But people weren't drinking while driving. They were just having a cold one while walking around the site, enjoying their day. Me included, by the way. And biker rallies usually attract some fairly colorful people. And I've already told you that I'll talk to anyone so is the picture starting to become clear?
Mr. Man and I were perusing a shopping booth when a rather sloppy drunk guy started talking to us. We shared a few laughs and I thought that was it until he decided to "help" me shop. Even though Mr. Man was right beside me (looking like a really mean cop), this person honed in on the ladies "fashion" underwear and started insisting that I needed a pair. "A purtyful girl like yew needs sum of deez here pannnies!" said the dude. I tried to gracefully decline but the guy was insistent. "Aw no no no no no, yew gotta war these soze yew can be really hawt for yo man. He'll luuuuuuuve them, am I right?" as he winks at my hubby.
My beloved had already started walking away (lest he pull out his pistol and started banging it on the side of the drunk dude's head). I wasn't insulted that he walked off I was grateful! Because I didn't want to see him have to go into cop mode and start whupping ass. And he's been around me enough and knows how I'll talk to anyone and everyone (including a stump) and can wiggle my way out of a jam.
I laughed and declined the mans offer but he was relentless. Before I knew it, he had sized me up, grabbed a pair of special "fashion" underwear, threw them at the clerk and paid for them. Then he magnamimously gave them to me with a wink and a bow. He literally bowed down at the waist and sort of did the chivalrous hand swish. Then he wobbled off to another booth. Presumably to buy more gifts for other women.
So now, I am the proud owner of a pair of the finest ladies "fashion" underwear you can find in the south. What? You want to know what they look like? Ok, you asked for it.....
That's right, "Git er done" panties. Now I can be a redneck like my beloved because I have undies that have a true southern saying on them. And if I'm ever in a terrible auto accident and wind up in the emergency room and the staff removes my clothes, they'll know just what to do. Git er done! Fix me up! Yee haw dammit!