We stopped in for a bite to eat at a barbecue joint yesterday. Going out to eat with both kids can be a crapshoot, but this time they were relatively well-behaved and the restaurant wasn’t crowded. Success!
As I nibbled on my okra, I hear Lydia start to sputter beside me, “What…what…why…WHY IS THAT MAN SHOWING HIS PANTIES?!”
I crane my neck around like an owl, eyes wide, to find her eyes glued to one of the televisions on the wall, where David Beckham is modeling underwear for whoever he gets paid big bucks to model underwear for.
Why DOES that man show his panties, indeed.