I scored this fab taxi story over the Thanksgiving turkey. And for those who would chide me for posting this so many days after the fact, I have one word -- tryptophancoma. Look it up in the dictionary.
As told by the headless woman holding up the fine bird: I was in a cab yesterday, and the driver started talking to me. He told me how his wife had gotten really fat over the past few years. As in 250 pounds fat. He didn’t know what to do about it.
His friends suggested he get his wife a job, so she’d walk around more and loose weight. So he got her a job working on the subways. But she’s still fat.
[TaxiCon: Yeah, nothing like working in the smelly, concrete, underground to make you feel like loosing weight.]
I even started complimenting other family members in front of her on their shapely figures, hoping it would encourage her to take off pounds.
[TaxiCon: What? You’re complimenting other Family Members on their bodies? In front of your wife? Hide the kitchen knives and rat poison! Also, please, please say you’re not related to these 'younger family members' by blood. Third cousins I can deal with, but that’s it. I’m looking at you, Woody Allen.]
We aren’t even having relations anymore. We haven’t in years. I’m telling you all this because I know I’m never going to see you again.
[TaxiCon: I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark here and say you're not 'having relations' with your wife because you keep telling her 15-year-old sister she looks hot. Just sayin'.]
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