Over the years, I've occasionally remarked, "If the wife ever caught me messing around, I'd be lucky to wind up running a bait stand outside Port Lavaca." Fast forward to Monday and I'm riding back to the office in the auto dealership's courtesy van. It's just me and the driver, a guy that looked to be in his early sixties. While making small talk, he confided that he is in the process of "building a bait stand outside Port Lavaca." I was momentarily stunned before finally stammering out, "It's hell sometimes keeping croakers alive."
I'll be frank; if the wife ever did find me messing around, I still wouldn't sell bait in Port Lavaca. I'd be more likely to end up stocking camo and skunk scent at Academy but it probably wouldn't be anything lucrative or exciting like male prostitution. Speaking of which, there's apparently a new series out on HBO about a guy who goes into the gigolo bidness based on the impressive size of his wedding tackle. Swell (get it?). I knew a guy back in the fraternity days who had an enormous dong--his nickname (don't understand how) was "Dick Breath." He had the sweetest, prettiest, and most petite girlfriend that later became Mrs. Dick Breath--we all wondered just how in the hell this innocent little thing suffered through sparring sessions with brother DB. Oh, well--one thing in life is you do learn to expand your horizons to fit in what comes your way. Guess Little Miss Sweet Thang did the same.
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