First, we assembled the postage we already have. Fun fact about Wes . . . he has some kind of freaky sixth sense when it comes to finding spare change and yes, stamps, on the ground. He's like some kind of weirdo things-with-monetary-value detector.
It's good that I feel that way because the postal service served us up this action.
I find this combination strangely hilarious. Partly because I did not immediately recognize the dude in the wig with all the blush and also because my failure to do so reminded me of something funny from my high school days.
My friends and I were hanging out at my friend Eric's house one day. His mother had a painting of Jesus hanging over the piano--as one generally does in that part of the south. This Jesus was the long-haired, blonde, blue-eyed, dirty hippie version. My mother's version, which happened to be similar to my other friend's mothers' versions, was the Morris Chestnut-y, dreadlocked, bare-chested, muscle-y variety. Which is why LaConda looked at the painting and asked Eric, "Who is that white man?"
Eric looked--aghast. "That's JESUS!"