Cheeseburger Brigade

Females can be catty. I know this because I am one and have, when necessary, been catty. Exclusivity almost always goes hand in hand with cattiness, so, when I was invited to Oper’s birthday party, I knew I had really made it in the world of womanhood.

 

The odds for men at the party were good or bad – depending on how you were looking at it. If my math was right, the ratio was 1:6. “Where’s Danger?” I asked Oper about her boyfriend. The host of the party chimed in, “He doesn’t really like being around all of The Generals – calls us the Cheeseburger Brigade.”

 

“Why?” I asked. Turns out all of the girls were hanging out once and one of them told the others her snatch-a-doodle-doo looked like a cheeseburger. This, of course, sparked the curiosity of the other girls so, as any good friend would do, she showed them. This resulted in the rest of the girls showing their menu item. “Was Danger there when that happened?” I asked. “Oh no,” Oper said and added, “But I told him all about it.” The host piped in, “It was pretty interesting. We had cheeseburger, bacon, everything.” I, of course, asked about bacon and she did not hesitate to explain, “Yes, bacon – lips that look like bacon.”

 

Wow. I had no idea that this party was both a celebration of Oper’s age and a value menu. Gives Quarter Pound Her, Plil Lay Her Fish, and Seven Laid Her Buried O all new meaning.

 

 

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