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?