Making waves...

My dad to my mom after she had spent 15 minutes berating the bartender for his political views (namely, that he’s not a Republican):

“Now, why did you have to go and pick a fight with the bartender? People know us here!”
“I don’t know…he was the closest! And my feet hurt.”
“What does that have to do with you calling him an idiot?”
“I was cranky because of my bunions…and someone needed to tell him he was stupid. It just worked out that way.”
“Well, we’ll have to bring our own wine from now on…”
“That’s fine. I don’t want a Democrat serving me anyways.”
“We live in California. It's fair to say everyone’s a Democrat.”
“Well, then I’ll tell them they’re all idiots and we’ll eat at home in peace.”

And people wonder why it is that I spend a fair amount of time with my foot in my mouth. It's called GENETICS. IT'S NOT MY FAULT.