So there I was, out for a Sunday hike with Lacey, Alan, and Lacey's very handsome dog Bear. We were driving back (and I have to say here that Alan shifted his Prius into low gear to better maneuver the terrain on Skyline Drive, and if you've never had the chance to see anyone shift gears on a badass Prius, you just haven't lived) and we happened on what looked like a normal minivan:
As we got closer, Lacey noticed that the "University of" sticker in the back window said, "University of Margaritaville," and I noticed that the little frame around the license plate said, "ASK ME ABOUT SLUMBER PARTIES"! (For those not in the know, this means, "I sell sex toys.") WhatWHATWHAAAAT???? The minivan said, "We have kids," but everything else said, "We're here to party!"
We HAD to see this couple. We HAD to pass them. Would they look sexy-glamorous or sexy-low-key? Would they be smokin' hot, the kind you just knew got it on all the time, or would they be more couple-next-door, the kind who was always lovingly playful? Let's find out, shall we?
"Oh, my God!" Lacey screamed. "Pass! Pass! Pass these people! I can't look!"
The woman in the passenger seat looked as bad--or worse--than the man you see driving. It was awful.
Anyway, if you just lost your lunch, don't blame me. I warned you in the first place.
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