An employee at the store, which famously celebrates breasts, told her to go to the alley out back instead.
. . . from teaching my fifteen-year-old daughter about her Texas roots. So when I realized I was failing to accomplish this most sacred of duties, I did what any well-meaning parent would do: loaded her (and her friends, of course) into the car and hit the road.
September 1, 2012 | by Skip Hollandsworth | Feature