No Bacon Neck, Please
A couple of Clay’s undershirts somehow turned a nice pale shade of pink in the washing machine the other day. I honestly don’t know what caused the Pepto-Bismol explosion so I am officially blaming the wealthiest 1% of the country. Watch out Wall Street occupiers – I’ll soon be joining you to protest the lack of bright whites in this country.
Because of the cotton candy apparel situation we currently have going on, I told Clay that I will pick up some more undershirts for him at the Wal-Marts (ever notice how certain people always make Wal-Mart plural, no matter what the situation dictates? Drives me crazy, and not in a good way). Clay asked me to buy undershirts that were tag-less and did not give him bacon neck. I must have looked at him as if he has a unicorn horn on his forehead because he quickly followed with, “You know, like Hitler-stache Michael Jordan talks about in those Hanes commercials.”
Now I admit that my television habits have changed since Weston has entered toddlerhood. I can no longer watch The Real Housewives of Trenton (“I’ll cut you, bitch”) while nursing a baby and the days of having Unsolved Mysteries on in the background are long gone (RIP, Robert Stack). Because we’re sort of hippy dippy parents, television for the little guy is limited. When he does watch it, Nick Jr. and PBS are the name of the game. This means that my commercial interruptions more than often involve fruit and vegetable propaganda (mmmm….broccoli) and do not include one of the greatest basketball players ever, who also happens to be a pompous <insert noun here> selling underwear.
So I had never heard of bacon neck until this morning. Have you? Learn something new each day, I suppose. And such concludes this quite pointless post on bacon neck.
And in case you were wondering, voisinko olla perkonia is how you ask for bacon in Finnish. At least according to the Internets (I find that the same people who pluralize Wal-Mart also tack on an ‘s’ to internet. This is also very irritating).