Brother!
This blogging business is becoming more and more a weekend thing. Well, I do
have a life beyond these words you're reading, and several other megs' worth
that precede these here. And said life does exist, despite insistences
to the contrary – e.g., daughter Shelly (just turned twenty-four; must have
snuck a dozen or more years in on me when I wasn't looking) has a degree in
Psychology; says so right here on the vellum. This makes her academically
certified to determine and diagnose that I have no life. I've yet
to prove otherwise to her… although that doesn't motivate me toward life-demonstrativeness
(on her terms), either.
Those
dozen-or-more years, by the way, are only superficial; case in point is that
she just now called me from an unknown number, and asked me if I could roll my
tongue. "No," I said, naturally. "Okay," she answered… and
hung up on me.
Twenty-four
is not too old to be a brat. No, not my tongue – but my eyes roll back
quite nicely, Shell.
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