So far, I believe I’m 0-3 for wearing solid Friday Happy Hour socks and then actually making it to a happy hour. But I still dig these pretzel-and-beer socks, and instead of bellying up to the bar at 4 pm, I got to make it home early to the Puddinette’s delight. Seems like a pretty justifiable outcome for Mother’s Day Weekend.
The Wrong Day For The Right Socks
