I’m getting tired of talking about the TSA but they just keep digging deeper into the fail hole.
Now, not only are they feeling you up, they’re sticking their hands down your pants.
If somebody sticks their hands down my pants, they are NOT pulling that hand back out until I come, and they tell me I’m sexy….
What do you call it after you jump the shark, and then jump the shark again?
“I demand you touch my monkey, Mr. TSA man. Touch it! Touch my monkey!”
Oh boy. We’re flying back to MA for Thanksgiving. Fun things to look forward to!!
(I usually avoid trouble by wearing form-fitting jeans and a snugly-fitted top, but I’m not going to be happy if they start grabbing my chest.)
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