August 29, 2006
Posted on: August 29, 2006
- In: family | musings | son
- Leave a Comment
one of the injustices committed against me and hence mankind is the accusation of me getting Son into marriage while he was drunk. This accusation lurks in every corner of everyday conversations, casually dropped as if I should always be expecting it. Oh, I see your point, uh huh – How did you get Son to marry you anyway? Did you get him drunk?? Nuh uh, why do you ask? Because you are weird!
You don’t know WEIRD if you call me weird. Just because I display all sides of me onto to one dimension for simplicity’s sake instead of scattering them on 9 different planes, you think you can safely call me weird?? It’s unfair. Son is the weird, weirder, weirdest person if you know him like I do (maybe you don’t want to know him like I do?). In private he’s just superweird. I’m talking about the guy who goes after my cat with a pair of tweezers because he thinks my tuxedo cat has a grey hair. The same guy was also the kid who told his English teacher in elementary school that there were 18 D’s in “Strangers in the night”
– Eighteen D’s !? How so ?
– ♪ Strangers in the night … dee dee dee dee dee dee dee ….♫
Just so you know.
Leave a Reply