- Joined
- May 16, 2006
- Messages
- 7,317
- Reaction score
- 103
I Love Mustard....
(This is a true story. If you have children you will probably relate to this
father.)
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with
crisp lettuce and plenty
of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard.
The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our
backyard, picked it up with both
hands but was stopped by my wife suddenly at my side.
"Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich," she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for
the ham sandwich when
I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers.
I love mustard. I had no napkin.
I licked it off.
It was not mustard.
No man ever put a baby down faster.. It was the first and only time I have
sprinted with my tongue protruding.
With a washcloth in each hand, I di d the sort of routine shoeshine boys do;
only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife said, "Now you
know why they call that fancy
mustard 'Poupon'."
I got this in an email this did NOT happen to me!
(This is a true story. If you have children you will probably relate to this
father.)
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with
crisp lettuce and plenty
of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard.
The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our
backyard, picked it up with both
hands but was stopped by my wife suddenly at my side.
"Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich," she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for
the ham sandwich when
I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers.
I love mustard. I had no napkin.
I licked it off.
It was not mustard.
No man ever put a baby down faster.. It was the first and only time I have
sprinted with my tongue protruding.
With a washcloth in each hand, I di d the sort of routine shoeshine boys do;
only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife said, "Now you
know why they call that fancy
mustard 'Poupon'."
I got this in an email this did NOT happen to me!
