So I was sitting in the lobby of a large downtown office building at lunchtime today waiting for a conference call to start regarding a shady business deal I'm cooking up, and while waiting for the phone to ring,
I wiled away the minutes gazing out onto the bustling pedestrian thoroughfare known as Nicollet Mall, when a cute little boy wandered into view. He had nice features, had a neat little outfit on, etc (you notice these things more when you have a kid yourself).
Then his mom entered the frame, and gave him a beverage to drink from. Well that's nice - a picturesque little snapshot of parenthood, thought I. Except for one little detail, that is. A detail I sadly wasn't quick enough to capture with my cellphone camera.
The mom was wearing a large belt buckle that read "Kiss My Ass."
Now, I don't want to throw stones here - but when my kid was born,
I took stock of my life and decided that maybe it was time to retire things like my "Kiss My Ass" belt buckle, which is why mine now resides in a box in the basement, waiting for the day when we have a rummage sale and someone can pay a quarter for the privilege of letting strangers that happen to look at their waistline know that make no mistake, theirs is an ass that should be kissed.