The Village People
I went to a Wal-Mart in rural Central Indiana the other night. At 9:30 pm. Ostensibly, this is a college town. Don't let that fool you.
Two men were there. I spent the entire 36 minutes I was there debating whether or not they were gay. I still don't know. They both wore jeans. Painted-on is not a euphamism. Cowboy boots in pig-raising country. One wore a hat that would be appropriate if you were in Big and Rich's backup band. The other had a handlebar moustache.
I called my mother later.
"They were dressed like the Village People, Mom. With no sense of irony."
Two men were there. I spent the entire 36 minutes I was there debating whether or not they were gay. I still don't know. They both wore jeans. Painted-on is not a euphamism. Cowboy boots in pig-raising country. One wore a hat that would be appropriate if you were in Big and Rich's backup band. The other had a handlebar moustache.
I called my mother later.
"They were dressed like the Village People, Mom. With no sense of irony."
posted by Miss Head at
5:35 AM
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