I took a long weekend trip down to D.C. to help move my sister and her boyfriend into their new apartment.  Repeating earworm refrain of the weekend: Good lord does it feel good to be a useful human.

Moving my sister’s wardrobe burned many, many calories.  You don’t even know. That calorie expenditure turned into a voracious hunger, the type of hunger that requires Meat to replenish.  Luckily for my stomach, she lives within walking distance of that awesome hamburger joint that Obama took Biden to a while back when Biden was all “Not to cause a panic, but I have Bubble Boyed my entire family and am living underground and you should also do this if you love your family because SWINE FLU IS GOING TO KILL THE WHOLE COUNTRY” because Biden used to be a local news anchor, as we all know. Then Obama ordered Dijon mustard on his burger, conclusively proving that he is a gay French British communist, also a liar. Remember that? Yeah, me too. We went to there.

I ordered a burger with mustard because I am those above things as well.  It was delicious.

Let’s get something clear: Ray’s Hellburger is my favorite place in the world.  First off, its name is a terribly forced pun, which automatically puts it into the “friend” column of this site.  Second off, its menu is off of chains. They don’t just sautee their mushrooms, they sautee them in sherry.  You can upgrade from beef to foie gras.  Yes. Like, not just a bit of foie gras thrown in with the ground beef. Like, instead of beef, foie gras. Burgasms abounded.  (I did not get foie gras, as it was an extra ten dollars, and I am a man of modest means. For the record, I am pro-force feeding geese through intubation a la Kirstie Alley because once I used some foie gras in collard greens and wept like Chris Crocker it was so delicious [similes!])

Bottom line: om nom nom. I didn’t think the lunch could get any better. WRONG. Enter this matching couple:

What a delightful pair.  They are wearing matching pink shorts! Ahhh-dorbs. They then levelled up big time when, as I was taking this picture, the guy proclaims “WE DIDN’T DO THIS ON PURPOSE!” Me: “Even better! I’m putting this on my blog so the internet knows that you are a Good.”

I know there is at least one math major that reads this blog.  Does he or she want to figure out what the probability is of two people wearing pink shorts? I’m estimating it is approximately impossible.  It would be something like [p(someone owns pink shorts) x p(that person chooses to wear those pink shorts)]^2 x [p(choosing to wear a white shirt with it)]^2, which is probably within 5% of the probability of Moby not having herpes, which is also known as zero.  (I can confirm second-hand that Moby has herpes).

Thank you so much, pink-shorts wearing couple, for perfecting my already perfect day.  Thank you, Ray’s Hellburger, for attracting couples that wear matching pink shorts. God bless Rosslyn, Virginia.