The only thing worse than being laughed at during sex is being laughed at instead of sex.
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If I feel I’m not up to a task, I’ll break it into smaller tasks and then explain why I can’t do each of those.
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I fear that, when I finally manage to start my own business, people won’t be buying halberds anymore.
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When I’m confronted with a seemingly impossible task, I step back from it, take a deep breath, let it out slowly and then go home sick.
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I resolve to alleviate my fear of dying alone by making sure I don’t ever die.
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I don’t mind failing at something as long as no one notices and gives me a cruel nickname like “Captain Failure” or “Failie McFail” or “Fail Dunaway”. I don’t mind “Dr. Fail” because that implies I have a PhD.
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I fear that, when I finally show people the real me, they will demand the fake me back.
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Chin up! Yes, the future is cold and bleak and pointless but that hasn’t kept anyone from moving to Minnesota.
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I’ve disappointed nearly everyone I’ve ever loved but I’m going to make it up to them: With free halberds!
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I don’t dread growing old because it is like drinking a fine aged wine: The kind that makes you angry for no reason, messes with your memory and makes you fall down a lot.
You know what they say C, if you are going to die alone, at least do it with no dignity, and a chicken in the oven
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But, what if I need to fold some sheets right before I die???
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Chickens are very deft with regulation corners
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We raised chickens for seven years, Deb. I am well aware of their ability to make beds and wax hardwood furniture…
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And play bowls
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Did I tell you in my current tale I have two young rats, Dwyane and Bean Sprout (named after the great Bean Sprout famine) kidnapped by a tortoise in a hot air balloon 🎈
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No. When do I get to see it?
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Probably not something you’d want to see
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One can never have too many halberds. They’re very effective for repelling random family members who want to spend the night.
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Or, SPECIFIC family members who want to spend the night… like the ones who drink at night and smoke in bed… We had HOLES burned into our sheets…
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Sorry to disappoint you, but growing old is NOT like drinking fine aged wine. I’d tell you what it’s really like, but today I celebrated my 87th birthday, and after I finish drinking my 87th bottle of beer, I’m going to try to stagger off to bed, grateful that it’s not my 88th birthday.
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I know what to get you for your 88th: A stomach pump…
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Oh… and… HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
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