Do They Sell Hula Girls in Vegas?

My sister and I went on a little road trip over the weekend. We have not gone on a road trip since…well I can’t remember.

We were both a little overly excited to run away from our responsibilities visit our aunt and uncle. Our uncle heard we were coming and fled the country was very sad he could not be there as he had to teach an anti-terrorism school in Mexico.

We drove my sister’s very large, black, new SUV. (This is Texas, every family is required to have at least one large SUV.)

She pulled up into my driveway on Friday morning and put a lay around my neck and said “welcome to your vacation.”

We were off.

We stopped at this little gift shop somewhere along our trip. My sister found a stick-on dancing hula girl. We had to have her.

I found some fake mustaches that I remember my husband said he wanted. I asked him where on earth he thought I was going to find fake mustaches for him. The Lord provided.

I called him at work to make sure he still needed them.

“Hello, this is Sir D” (he didn’t really say Sir D, he said his real name, but you all are smart enough to figure that out, right?)

“Hi honey, guess what!” I squeal.

“I’m going to have to call you back.” He says is his work voice that tells me he has someone in his office.

“Okay but real quick, do you still need those fake mustaches?”

A pause.

“Um, yes. If you could please take care of the procurement of the supplies that would be excellent.” Sir D said in his work voice.

My sister and I laughed about that all weekend!

We buy our dancing hula girl and fake mustaches and hop back in the new, shiny, black SUV and Angela sticks the Hula girl on the dash, right in the middle. As we pull back out onto the highway she begins to shake her unlikely shaped body back and forth. She is our mascot. She will hula us all the way to the ranch.

We watched her in silence for a while.



Then Angela said, “Crap. I just stuck a tacky hula girl to (insert her husband’s name here) new car.

“(insert her husband’s name here) is not going to think that is funny.”

"Surely Uncle has some go-be-gone or something that will get her off." I suggest.

We get to the ranch, with hula girl mocking us, swaying back and forth all the way, but never coming loose.

Well, Hula girl did eventually come off. She did not leave any residue on the shiny new car’s dash. We did not have to confess to (insert her husband’s name here) that we stuck a tacky hula girl on the dash of his new car.

Some people go on vacation, loose their minds and become overly spontaneous and gamble away their life savings. Angela and I just stick tacky things to a new car’s dash.

What happens on vacation only stays on vacation if you don’t stick it on your dash.

Words of wisdom my friends.