I don't know what's worse...

The horrible joke I made coming back from our Cinco de Mayo festivities, or the fact that LoLo laughed so hard at it.

See, she was driving us back to our cars, and her leftovers were sitting on the dashboard. Well, when she stepped on the gas to go when the light turned green, the leftovers flew backward, and I managed to catch the to-go box in my left hand, keeping the contents safely ensconced within.

Impressed with my cat-like reflexes, something was mentioned about the difficulty level of getting guacamole out of your shirt, and J.Co said, "Just Shout! it out!"

I, of course, having no beer in my system, stated, "Yeah, I tried that once. It didn't work so well. I just stood there, screaming at my clothing."

J.Co said it was horrible, and although LoLo agreed, she still laughed at it while admitting it was horrible that she was laughing at it so hard. What can I say? I aim to please.

All this after an evening of verbal abuse and stinging slaps to my upper arm. This is what I get for trying to tell jokes to drunk people.

Damned Five of Mayonnaise, ruining it for everybody!