Fresh from my folder titled ‘Hey, get off my lawn!’ comes this little ditty.
I'm Just Saying
Each year around this time I headline a stand-up comedy concert to benefit Big Oaks Rescue Farm in Greenwood, SC. This year the chosen venue was the historic Abbeville Opera House, and what a privilege it was to stand upon that stage.
One of these days I might just put up a cot inside my local Greek eatery as I tend to spend far more time there than in my own kitchen. And if you’d ever tasted my, what some people might refer to as, cooking, you’d understand why.
That doesn’t look good,” said Paul, happening upon me icing my leg at the kitchen table, after I’d smacked and twisted it while unloading hay out of the truck into the barn.
(In case you didn’t know, if you’ve ever wondered why trailer hitches were invented, it’s so that you can locate your shin in the dark.)
“Does it hurt?”
The saddest commentary I have ever witnessed occurred Tuesday evening while I watched a segment on a national newscast reporting that the sales of bullet proof backpacks for children have spiked. I didn’t even know there were bullet proof backpacks. However, need being the mother of invention...
This is quite difficult to believe, but according to a well-researched article in USA Today, many Millennials (those young’uns spawned between 1981 and 1996) are eschewing dating because it’s become too expensive.
Welp, it’s been hot. And last week I felt as if I were walking side by side with Matthew Broderick as he grunted through basic training in the film, ‘Biloxi Blues.’
‘Man it’s hot. It’s like Africa Hot. Tarzan couldn’t take this kind of hot.’
It’s not as if I need another reason to love Queen Elizabeth, but an article in British papers this week made me want to go against all royal protocol and hug her neck.
Coming across an article featuring Nadya Suleman, the renowned ‘Octomom’ who was roundly criticized for becoming pregnant with 8 octuplets, when she already had 6 other children, I was taken aback to see that her octuplets are now 10 years old.
A few weeks ago, Paul, laden down with grocery shopping bags having done all of the week’s shopping because, evidently, I “can’t be trusted to bring home anything else than cold beer and frozen pizza with the bounding enthusiasm of a Golden Retriever”, became frustrated with trying to keep a hold of everything and turn the doorknob at the same t