BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! It’s true! That is NOT a hat. For reasons my brain will not divulge, I persist in referring to it as a hat. “Where’s your hat?” I’ll say. Then John responds with, “It’s right there, next to my jumper.” Only it’s not a jumper; it’s a hoodie. Which proves we speak a language only we can understand.
I started wearing fedoras when I was living in San Francisco, so we're talking 35 years or so. (Still have my first, beautiful rabbit-fur felt thing. But it needs a trip to a milliners, and those are even harder to find than girl friends.)
<-- THIS IS A HAT
John is wearing a baseball cap.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! It’s true! That is NOT a hat. For reasons my brain will not divulge, I persist in referring to it as a hat. “Where’s your hat?” I’ll say. Then John responds with, “It’s right there, next to my jumper.” Only it’s not a jumper; it’s a hoodie. Which proves we speak a language only we can understand.
I started wearing fedoras when I was living in San Francisco, so we're talking 35 years or so. (Still have my first, beautiful rabbit-fur felt thing. But it needs a trip to a milliners, and those are even harder to find than girl friends.)
Perhaps a girlfriend who IS a milliner? Stranger things have happened.
Yeah, I'll just go ahead and start holding my breath ...