Just Lie Back and Think Of England

Here we are at David's Bridal for the last fitting before we were allowed to take The Dress home. I was able to snag my bride's maid's dress off the rack later that day, just before a group of loud black girls descended on the place looking for the exact one I was holding in my hands. I totally loitered in the fitting room for fifteen minutes to make sure it was the right size, not because I was afraid of being jumped by a crazy bridal hunting party.

I've tried to think of an appropriate caption for this picture. I like the title of this entry, myself. But I'm sure we can come up with some others. I'll start.

And that, Mom, is why it's called a "rim job."