T-Shirt Slogans Not to Wear Out of the House

I’ve told you before that My Honey is a musician.  I am required by my marriage vows to go to every gig.  I promised to love, honor, cherish, and attend. 

He had a show on Friday night and, of course, I went.  It was in the little dive bar that has been around for a zillion years, and My Honey has been playing there at least that long.  In fact, the rhythm guitarist’s wife and I were discussing that we’d been coming to that bar longer than many of the little chippys that were there had been alive.  THAT my friends, is a sobering thought.

I arrived at the bar hours after My Honey – he and his bandmates had “load in” (band speak for taking all their crap: amps, guitars, drums, etc) hours before they were to go on.  I showed up there just after Ava’s Husband.  We sat out on the patio and laughed and sweated for a long time before My Honey was to go on. 

There was a pretty good crowd outside and we had a table located right in the center of the patio.  I was at one end of our group of tenish people and My Honey chatted with his band mates and friends on the other end.  At one point, My Honey, Ava’s Husband, and several other musician friends looked over at me from the other end of the crowd.  All at once – as a group – and peered at me expectantly.  I’d noticed a little ruckus and some laughing, but remember, we are at a very loud bar with live music just inside, and he was a good ten or fifteen feet away.  I had no idea what they were talking about or why they were looking at me.  I ignored them, shrugged, and kept on with my on conversations.

About fifteen minutes later, I commented on Ava’s Husband’s T-shirt.  It said, “I Like Intercourse”.  The back had a logo for Intercourse Beer from Intercourse, Pennsylvania.  It really was the perfect shirt to wear to this sort of function.

I said, “My Honey should have worn his shirt that says, ‘Feel My Bottom’.”  It refers to the slogan for his bass amp.  It’s a whole music thing I don’t pretend to understand.

Ava’s Husband’s jaw dropped and he stared at me for a second before he spoke.  “You didn’t see that?”

“What?” I had no idea what he was talking about. 

“Just a few minutes ago.  You were looking right at him.  I thought you were pissed.”

Oh.  It begins to dawn on me.  He must be referring to when everyone turned and looked at me en masse.  Still, I didn’t know why, and what did this have to do with My Honey’s shirt?  Oooooooh, wait. 

“Is that the shirt he’s wearing?” I asked stupidly.  Maybe I should be paying more attention.

Ava’s Husband’s eyebrows rose.  “Yeah.”

I started to chuckle.  “Did someone grab his butt?”

“Yeah.  That girl over there,” Ava’s Husband revealed.  “I thought for sure you’d be pissed.”

Said girl was maybe 21 and 4 minutes old because she’d gained entry to the 21 and over side of the bar.  Blonde.  Pretty in a mostly clothed sort of way.

No, I’m not pissed.  I laughed heartily as a matter of fact.  The story still makes me chuckle.  My Honey was embarrassed – which is pretty typical of him.  He’s fairly shy.  As a matter of fact, I had to make him take me out on our first date then, 6 months later, I asked him to marry me.  I bought him a diamond ring and everything.  I carried that box around in my pocket for two weeks before I got brave enough to ask.  That will be ten years ago in November.

Of course, I made him go buy me a ring, too.  Seriously, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.  And Coach purses but one doesn’t tradionally get those for engagments.   

I’m gonna add another line to the vows.  I promise to keep better eye on My Honey’s butt.