That voice in my head is my friend KP. KP is my buddy that left San Diego for Nashville...he had no dreams of becoming a country star, was not particularly adept at making moonshine and he did have all his teeth, so it was a curious move. Couple that with his crazy enjoyment of all things Mexican (Happy Cinco de Mayo, bro!) and Nashville was not on the top 10 places for him to live. He ended up there anyway. He is now some sort of land barron and when I went to visit him a few weeks ago I noticed that everyone we passed in the store or restaurant would bow their head, avert their eyes and say "Good afternoon, sir." It was sorta creepy, but it got us free stuff, so I was good with it.
Anyway, back to my voice...so this girl (I don't want to say who exactly, but her name might rhyme with *flair*) asked me a question..."Do these jeans make my butt look bunchy?"
"Don't do it dude. It is a trap!" Said that voice in my head.
So, I replied very carefully, "That is a dangerous question, XXXXXX." (Name removed for fear of incrimination, but it might rhyme with *hair*)
"No, no...I am not trying to trap you, I really want to know. Does it make my butt look bunchy?" Said the person whose name, may or may not rhyme with *dare*.
This is when I realized that it was KP shouting inside my brain because now I could see him jumping up and down, waving his arms, and shaking his head..."Don't do it...DO NOT DO IT! Whatever you do, don't answer that question."
Thanks KP for being that little voice of reason. You saved me from certain death by a woman's stare...and from 10-14 years of ridicule by making me avoid the Labradoodle!