Not long ago I wrote of my experience at a place where my wife and I (and her sister and mom) went painting. Actually, we went drink-painting. OK, so here’s the story…
It seems the new hip thing to do for any kind of date night is to hang out at one of these BYOB painting class locations. We’re fortunate to have one nearby that accepts Groupons so we went, bottles of wine in hand, and came home with two beautiful canvases of brightly-colored, oil painted… bicycles?
Tonight we returned with a few more family members and tried our hands at drunk peacocks.
My wife and I got all cutesy and painted our peacocks facing each other so that when mounted on our family room wall they’d appear to be kissing.
Then I remembered something.
Peacocks are ALL male.
“So, dear, I believe we just painted gay peacocks,” I said.
“Really?” she questioned me. “There are no female peacocks? Then tell me , Mr. Smart Guy,” she continued, her eye raised in a “gotcha” moment, “How do they reproduce?”
“By having foul sex with a peahen.”
Get it? Foul reproduction? Hehe. Yeah, I’m 12