and sometime's they have to step in and make you recognize...
Last week, I was at the Cody Ohl/Fred Whitfield (who is the bomb.com) Match Roping in San Angelo. I made my way to the ladies room and when I went to wash my hands after redistributing the beer, this exchange happened:
I walked to the sink and put my left hand under the soap thingy - no soap, so I try the other side soap thingy with my right hand. No soap.
As I'm turning on the water to just rinse, a 70-some-odd-year old woman (had to be a lifelong smoker with that voice) says to me, "There's no soap, sweetheart."
So I crack a little smile, look down at my hands and say with a chuckle, "Well, hell."
She leans in, right in my face and replies, "Little girl (I'm in my mid-thirties, thank-you-very-much), that is a real place, not a swear word. You remember that."
I am so glad that we have people like that around to keep me in line. Who knows what I might say?
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