Man Pretty

Hubby and I sat talking about our day and halfway through he remembered a forgotten story. Now, for anyone who knows Ash, he seems to run into some crazy situations. He's like a beacon for weirdness. I adjusted my position and got ready to hear anything from a de-scalped accident victim to a spotted dance rendition of Micheal Jackson's "Beat It".

"I headed off to work and pulled into Carl's Junior for a burger beforehand. My lips had been chapped for days due to fishing and the weather. I remembered that I'd seen your tube of chapstick in the console. Popping the cap off, I pulled up to the speaker and lathered it on while I gave my order. After, I put the cap back on and rolled forward in line towards the window."

Experience in our sixteen-year relationship kept me from saying "so what" at this point. Whereas I am a story-writer, Ash is a storyteller. To be a storyteller you have to set more of the scene and back story a bit.

"I lit a cigarette and checked how much I'd put on in the mirror because you say I put on too much."

He tosses me a chagrined looked, whereas I pass back a "well you do" look. We decide to let THAT bicker - er, discussion - go for now. He gestures towards his lips.

"And damn if they didn't look smooth and immaculate. They were real man pretty, like a magic potion. That stuff worked hella good! I continued to creep towards the window, eyeing my lips in the mirror. Something nagged at me. They looked too pretty!"

I'm starting to see where this story is heading and already building up to a snorting laugh...partly because the lip praise he's giving himself.

"By this time I reached the window. I paid for the burger and rolled into a parking spot to eat. Taking a napkin, I wiped off some of the excess chapstick and pink shade came off onto it. I proceeded to read the chapstick container and realized it was rose-tinted lip gloss."

(enter West Side Story music in my head)...sometimes I feel pretty, so pretty...