My second post and my hands are shaking.  Yack. Yack. Yack. Yackity Yack.

Will that cut it? Does it help to know that I've never been more enthralled with a conversation with myself?

Nope? Okay. Now what?

I’m usually so wordy. What’s going on now?  I see five question marks here; perhaps that isn’t good. When I must resort only to questions of an imaginary audience, I think I must be ‘toast.’

No. Not that KFC 'bread' referred to on SNL before. I actually had a child ask what I liked on toast the other day. It was the sweetest thing.

“Marmalade,” I said. I've always loved this since Grandma made it when I was a little girl. “…but if it’s KFC-toast, I'd only have one slice with salt and pepper only.

Though maybe peanut butter (on chicken bread) might've been okay too. Hmmm. Something to gab with myself about all evening.

Yep. A rather subdued life it is for me. But don't worry . . . "I'll be Baaack!"

And to finish, I spit out an old Schwarzenegger line.

Ah! Well. I continue on with my double-agent status on Twitter and the C.I.A. (critically injured androids).

Where's my phonebooth?