You call that embarrassing?

This weekend Brother J and I rescued a friend of his from getting a DUI and safely deposited her at her house.  As Brother J relayed to me how embarrassed this girl was that she met me for the first time under what she deemed less than flattering circumstances, we both had a good laugh.  Because our  family’s definition of less than flattering circumstances can be somewhat more well-informed than most.  She didn’t, for instance, moon me over the balcony of an apartment because we had a fight, or try to run me over with her car, or get arrested for beating up a little league coach with a baseball bat, or throw a rather hefty portion of cheese bread at my head at the  Red Lobster, or have to stop on her evening run to poop behind a bush.

In fact, we laughed our asses off. All this poor girl did was cry on my shoulder and give me some repeatedly strong hugs. Like, she’s embarrassed about that??? I’ll show her embarrassed.

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