I was at a friend's eighth anniversary party with Beau on Friday evening (we go every year) when I noticed a tall fella on the other side of the room. He looked at me, startled, and quickly ducked his head and walked elsewhere.
I chuckled to myself, remembering meeting him three years before.
Beau and I had broken up (my story)/were on a break (his story), and I was a wreck. Two of my friends convinced me to go to Bill's anniversary party. We went and had a few drinks, and I started feeling better and more at ease.
And then this tall lunkhead approached the three of us and greeted me with one of the most pathetic lines ever:
Are you Canadian? You look Canadian.
Seeing as I was already on the verge of bursting into tears, my friend Krista immediately came to my defense.
"You look Canadian?" How the f%*k does she look Canadian?? Is that the best you can come up with?
The fella started to sweat and stammer.
Well, she could have a Canadian flag tattooed on her ass. [Turns to me, lifts an eyebrow.] Do you? And if you do, can I see?
The three of us stood and glowered at him until he lumbered away.
Now it's just a chuckleworthy story. And that poor fella cowers in the corner every year at Bill's anniversary party.
Eh, take off, hoser. :)
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