How is it that in the advent of modern technology, the untold wonders borne of the industrial revolution, and the joy of living in an age that has (at last!) developed a disposable toilet bowl brush, some things remain pathetically unchanged?
I am proud – if a bit startled – to report that my younger cousin brought her own baby to Thanksgiving dinner this year.
Obviously, I am failing to see the big picture, money wise, and for this (and my being a writer – a career path which ranks slightly lower than illegal alien bus boy in terms of financial success), I’m unlikely to ever be obscenely, or even G-ratedly, rich.
I think I want to move.
Oh sure, I love the house, the property, the neighborhood, and the schools. All our friends are here and the dogs finally learned how to strew the trash about the yard in the most efficient manner.
I had no idea so much was riding on my mattress.
That is, until the down comforter on our bed sprang a leak.
Ask any three adults you know, I’m talking even the brilliant, highly educated ones. The ones who can’t even match their shoes or tuck in their shirts, they are that smart.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?
Speak for yourself pal. Words, when abused, give me a screaming headache.
Let me be the first to gleefully – and with a certain amount of malice – point out to you that there are only 63 shopping days left until Christmas.
Talk about adding insult to incarceration.
Martha Stewart has been sentenced to serve her time at the federal prison in Alderson, W.
(Authors note: Names and locations have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent and any resemblance to anyone living or annoying is purely coincidental.