A sticky situation
Several nights ago, I dropped in on a local brewery. A friend (who will remain nameless to assure the preservation of his job) was working the nightshift, and invited me over to the east side for a free beer. After a 10pm tour of the facility, a quick nose-around in the gift shop, and a couple of pints, I came across a brewery bumper sticker.
You see where this is leading.
The next morning, I walked out to find “FRESH BEER” slapped across the bumper of my car. I don’t know what possessed me to think that this might be a good idea, as I have never put a bumper sticker of ANY sort on my 1990 Honda. Because apparently it’s too classy of a vehicle?
But alas, what’s done is done. Maybe I should just allow my car to be “that car.” My friend Kristen thinks it would be a great idea for all of my friends to bestow bumper stickers upon me before I leave on The Big Trip, and pioneering the effort, has offered one that says, “Watch out: I have PMS and a hand gun.” I now welcome any and all stickers – hopefully ones that will counteract the trashy start I’m off to. Although I’m not sure that “posh” and “bumper sticker” can co-exist in the same sentence.
It starts with bumper stickers. But before you know it, I could own a pair of jeans with P-H-A-T emblazoned across the ass.