Don't get your tits in the zipper.

A couple of friends from West Virginia dropped by today. By "dropped by" I mean to say, they went to the Redskins game, got fed up, left at halftime and decided to knock on the doors of any and all they knew in the neighborhood.
It just so happened The Mister was going to drop me off at our apartment and continue -bravely- on to Target. As the chariot pulled up I said, "Hey that looks like..." and together we both exclaimed, "Romney!"
A quick glance at The Mister and he said, "I'm already parking."
Romney is a good friend through Aunt Jane and he always brings a great attitude and even better schwag from the lovely land of all that is West-by-God-Virginia.
He also had a friend in tow who turned out to be just as much fun and today, I heard something I must permanently add to my vocabulary:
"Don't get your tits in the zipper." Meaning, don't get worked up over something. It's very close to "don't get your dick in the zipper" but with a slight twang, it is far better!

I also must note that Romney's friend was a handful and told a lovely story about deer hunting. Apparently, the Department of Natural Resources is testing deer shot in a certain area of West Virginia for signs of pollution. In order to do this, they must remove the lymph glands of the killed deer, but before doing so the officer asked, "Will you be mounting this deer?"
Romney's friend shouted, "Hell no! I already fucked in the woods. Want a beer?"