I will never forget the “bush” story that my coworker, Mike, told me fourteen years ago. He was about 28 and was married to a cute blonde named Melanie who was his age. At a previous job, he had worked with a 55 year old southern woman, Evelyn, who was concerned after seeing a female swimsuit calendar on another guy’s desk. She discreetly came into Mike’s office and shut the door. Imitating what I now think of as a Paula Deen-like accent, (from The Food Network) Mike relayed his conversation with his co-worker.
“Mike, does Melanie have a big patch or a little patch?”
“She’s not a pirate, Evelyn.” He told her.
“No, not that kind of patch.” She said. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper and continued. “The patch of grass down there.” She said, as she pointed to her lap.
