Please don’t bring me figgy pudding.

Why I love Texas:

Recently my friend Mark was at a tattoo parlor here in Houston.  A rough-looking older lady who worked at the bar down the street walked in and with an accent almost exactly like Granny Clampett declared loudly “I want two tattoos on my tits.  When the tattoo artist told her she’d need to lower her shirt slightly she sneered at his hoity-toity demeanor and whipped them out, holding each of them in her fists like she was wrangling angry hamsters in tube socks.  “What’s the big deal?!” she exclaimed.  “They’s just tits, y’all.” 

On one boob she wanted a heart with “Tiff” written on it, and on the other she wanted a broken, bleeding heart.  Soon a small crowd had gathered around topless Granny Clampett.  Someone asked who “Tiff” was and Granny thought for a few seconds before finally deciding “Well, I guess she’s my girlfriend”.  She got a call on her cell phone just as the artist was finishing up and she started screaming indignantly “No, I am NOT at the tattoo parlor!  I’m at work, dammit!”

Then she hung up and smiled smugly at her newfound entourage. “Oh that’s my damned husband.  I told him I wanted a tattoo and he said I couldn’t get one.”

*Huge pause as everyone at the parlor looks at each other.*

“Um…but…won’t your husband know you got one when he sees your chest?” 

*Slow look of realization passes her face*

“Oh shee-it.”

The tattoo patrons look wide-eyed at one another, desperately trying not to laugh.

“Uh…lady?  Does your husband know about ‘Tiff'”?

*Drops her head in her hands*

“Oh, damn it.”

And that’s why I love Texas.  Because of crazy old ladies, the Tiff’s who possibly love them, and most especially for people like my friend Mark who (knowing that none of you would actually believe this) had the foresight to ask Granny if he could take a picture of the finished product, which he graciously sent to me.

Pretty-much safe for work. 

Not safe for any other living thing:

tiff-run.jpg

I added the upside-down figgy puddings because I know a few of you might be easily offended, although I’m not sure why.

 They’s just tits, ya’ll.

75 thoughts on “Please don’t bring me figgy pudding.

Read comments below or add one.

  1. Jenny I know you have an active imagination but…You can’t make this stuff up! Only in TEXAS – I wasn’t born here, but got here as fast as I could!

  2. I’m having lunch today with the “ladies who lunch” from my church and now I KNOW that I am gonna just bust out with “there’s just tits, y’all”. Oh, well, as long as I don’t just bust out with the hampsters I guess I’ll be all right!

  3. That is too crazy for words! I think I’m going to add that to my collections of phrases, “They’s just tits, y’all!”

  4. Since they’re just tits, I’m sure she’s cool with them being on teh internet. Now, I’m sure she would have “messed you up” if Mark had included her face.

  5. Okay. I just love that.

    So let me get this straight … ya’ll got no snow and tattooed granny tits? I’m so moving south.

    Happy New Year to you Ms. Hot Bloggess.

  6. I have to make a clarification on a comment many people seem to be making. Texas is not a part of the traditional South that you may be thinking of when you say, “I want to move to the South.” Texas is Texas. In the South, old ladies get tattoos of their grandbabies’ names on their arms. They do not have their ta ta’s tattooed (in public). That wouldn’t be genteel.

  7. …and now you know why a former colleage’s family changed their family name from Titsworth to…um…something else entirely. Because we live in Texas and there’s an attitude down here that cannot be explained away in the manner that Flannery O’ Connor, Eudora Welty and William Faulkner explained the Gothic South through literature. When you’re the only state that was its own Republic…you carry your own kind of insanity along for the ride. Aside from that, this woman’s boobs scare and depress me so much I need to lie down. If that’s my future (sans tattoo), I think I’m going to be sick.

  8. I love it! But, between you and Min, I am seeing my hometown in a whole new way.

    Her with her photos all over town and you with, well tits y’all!

    I hope I am that proud of my boobs when I’m that age. I am pretty happy with them now so probably won’t lose that, right?

  9. Holy frickin shit. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all year! I’m definitely not the Tiff on those tits!

  10. shee-it, I just had to choke back the giggles so as not to wake the kid! I so need to visit Texas…

    (and I’m officially adding this to the list of What I’m NOT Getting for My Next Tattoo.)

  11. it’s enough to make me want to leave california and head to the land where everything is bigger and better.

    and droopier.

  12. Hm. And here I was thinking if she has a gf named Tiff then the chances of her husband seeing those tits is kinda small.

  13. Seriously, that is just TOO funny. I hope she went home and said to her husband that it stood for “tough Tiff-y” You know, for when he does things like telling her she can’t have a tattoo.

    Well, tough Tiff-y! I’m doing it anyways!!!

    Christine’s last blog post..Top of the Class!

  14. FUUUNNNNY. I think that quote will echo around in my head for awhile.

    It’s a quote that is crying out to be on a tee-shirt, I would think.

    Lot of irony here. (having this comment here feels like you’re in a time machine doesn’t it?)

    Mike’s last blog post..A Lack of Order, Random to You & Me

  15. Tiffs of the world, unite!

    Glad to say I’m not the Tiff on those titties either, although I feel a strange, smug satisfaction that my name is on a set of titties somewhere, even if they are old, speckled, and covered with pudding.

  16. “wrangling angry hamsters in tube socks”

    Isn’t that a sport held in Guatemala?

    P.S. I choked on my tea. Happy? I. choked. on. my. tea. Jenny, I could have died today…

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