I don't even know what I'm talking about

Lexi’s been looking for the perfect pair of sunglasses since the snow melted off our deck back in May. [O.K. fine I’m over-exaggerating, it melted way, way back in April.] Anyway, we found these glasses a couple of weeks ago at one of those mall kiosks, although I can’t say I’ve ever purchased anything at one of those kiosks before. Not that there’s anything wrong with those kiosks, just that I haven’t had a need for hair extensions or cell phone bling yet.<--break->

When I asked the kiosk lady a few questions about the glasses, I noticed she had some kind of Eastern Bloc accent. Even though her accent was thick, I could understand her. However, that didn’t keep me from flailing my arms around like I was on the losing team of a charades game. I’ve gotten into this habit of manically gesturing when I speak with foreigners. I don’t trust that they u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d what I’m saying and so I like to augment my speech with spectacular choreography. ...Keep Going

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