Whilst intensely watching a football game at our home last night with his brother, Mr. S. was, for reasons far too convoluted to explain yet quite innocent I assure you, trying in vain to come up with the word 'burlesque'.
"You know...no no no, not a strip club, what is that word?"
"Hooters?" his brother chimed unhelpfully.
"No! Not like that, you know, it's not...you know, there's a stage..."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said.
*frustrated arrgh* "No, yes you do! Our...friend has some, he owns one, you know that guy...Chuck! You know Chuck, he owns them! uh...come on!"
"Who the hell is Chuck?"
"CHUCK!!! ahh, Chuck, oh crap what's his name...we know him, our friend...I mean that guy...Chuck...Chuck..." *beseeching eyes*
"I did not know we HAD a friend named Chuck, where am I supposed to go with this?"
"CHUCK! FROM THE SHOW! I know you know this...CHUCK!"
"Oh my God, are you talking about Chuck BASS?!?"
*beat of silence*
I DIE. I DIE WITH TEARS SEEPING FROM MY EYEBALLS. I DIE LAUGHING SO HARD I HAVE DEPLETED ALL OXYGEN FROM MY CELLS.While I am laying there dead, the husband has to explain to his brother that Chuck Bass is from Gossip Girl, that he watches Gossip Girl, and apparently a fictional character who owns a burlesque club and posesses questionable moral qualities is our friend.
