Scuzie!

“One time, this friend of mine met a hot guy at a bar, then found out he was a plumber,” FF said the word ‘plumber’ like ‘terrorist’. She rolled her eyes as if to say “That was the end of that.”
ALS chuckled and added, “You can never really find good men in bars.”
The three of us were in the back of a taxi, heading home after a night out at a swanky new lounge we’d discovered. It boasted a list of over thirty martinis, including one that cost a whopping $99 and came with a ‘diamond.’

“What’s wrong with plumbers?” I asked defiantly, suddenly feeling protective of the low-income populous. “I mean, girls are always swooning over hot firefighters. How is a hot plumber any different?”
“That is true. They do come rescue you in times of need,” ALS offered.
“If you get their number, you can at least call them for a plumbing job even if you don’t end up going on a date,” FF added jokingly.
“It’s true!” I emphasized in all seriousness. “Personally, I love handymen, and I’m sure I have a higher chance of needing a plumber than a fireman. They should make a hot plumbers calender, like they do with firemen.”
The taxi driver checked me out through his rearview mirror and laughed audibly.
“Housewives across the country would go nuts,” FF chimed.