Bustin' Out

So please don't read this if you're squeamish about, you know, it.

I was in Las Vegas last week with some buddies, while the wife stayed home. Yes, I know. Not a good idea with my record, but I've been much better lately.

By about the third day of bumping into prostitutes and boozing it up at the burlesque shows, I was starting to get a little, you know.

Anyway, I've got this thing about uber tight tees. Lingerie is just a little, you know, too revealing, and as I've got this hefty imagination, I'd rather just try and connect the dots in my head rather than have it all bared out for me.

At the Hard Rock, I found this extremely small Pink Taco t-shirt, with little shiny rhinestones. I just about couldn't contain myself imagining my better half tucked neatly within.

So I whipped it out. My wallet. And dropped a load. Of cash. Yeah, like $35. For a t-shirt. And I looked forward to the flight home.

A couple of items to note. I've got a big mouth, so if you're sitting next to me on the plane, you're very likely to hear whatever life story I can squeeze into whatever time we have left on the flight. Also, my wife, is well, blessed. Up there. In the lung region. I'm not sure what I said to the guy next to me, but I do remember his response at one point:

Guy in the plane: What do you mean your wife's gonna be busting out? Is she in prison?

When I got home, a little winded and panty, mind you, (Okay, panty is not a proper word for someone who is panting, but it's an accurate description) I eagerly showed the Pink Taco to my girl.

My wife, in a somewhat confused Romanian accent: Vut zee hell eez dis?

Me, panty: It's your gift. In fact, I won't lie, girl. It's our gift.

My wife: Vut zee hell am I supposed to do vith eet?

Me, pantier: Put it on for me. Slowly.

My wife: How zee hell else vould I put eet on? Eet vill take an hour to squeeze into eet...

Me, pantiest: Oh yeah...

My wife: Vell here goes...(She puts on the t. Sure enough, one of the rhinestones pops off and strikes me in the forehead.

Me, less panty: Oooh...

My wife: Eet's a leetle hard to breaze, but...Hey! Vhere are you going?!

Me, drowsy: Yawn. I think...yawn...I'm gonna sleep now.

My wife: Bastard! You come here and feenish vut you started!

Me, barely audible: i....zzzzzzzz......

My wife: Now how zee hell do I geet out of dees thing?