Full Moon Fever
Hi America. How are you? Good, good. You changed your hair – very nice.
Here, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? How about a Fresca? No? Okay.
Look, I’ve gotta be honest, this isn’t a social call. It’s more like…an intervention.
Wait, wait…don’t go. Hear me out, America. You know I love you – even with all of your many and varied flaws – but, well, it’s just…
America, it’s time to cover your ass.
Don’t pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about. I see you out there in public – scooting into restaurant booths, bending down to look at that shirt on the bottom shelf at Old Navy, pants creeping down and down and down, exposing us all to more moon than even Neil Armstrong could stomach. Honestly, don’t you feel a cool breeze down there and wonder what the hell is going on?
I just don’t know what is going on with you lately. I mean, you used to confine this type of behavior to more *ahem* appropriate places – strip joints, construction sites, Wal-Mart. Now, everywhere I go there are more whale tails than a National Geographic special.
It’s time we get to the bottom of this once and for all because no one’s going to take you seriously when you can’t even keep your fanny packed. And, I don’t want to start anything here, but just the other day I heard France laughing at you…something about a derrière. Yeah, that bitch.
I guess it could be your pants – might be that they’re just a skosh too small. And you know, honey, those low-rise jeans aren’t for everybody.
While we’re on the subject, uh…it’s not just you. Yeeeeah, the other day when your husband was checking out that rack of jeans at Eddie Bauer…uh, there was some definite cheekage going on. You know, a nice belt could probably shore things up there. I’m just sayin’.
Now, now, don’t get upset. We all have our lapses in style judgment. I mean, we both know there are still photos floating around out there of me in that damn hot pink and white ‘Don’t Worry Be Happy’ tee shirt. And let us not even mention the ‘Year of the Beret’. Eeesh.
Look, I’m just trying to help. So, what do you say, America? Can you make an effort to get this blatant rump exposure under control?
Come on, let’s go shopping for some new pants right now. And tomorrow, we’ll start a nasty rumor about France.