Greetings faithful readers,
Please check out the new Disclaimer page on this site so we are all on the same page.
Greetings faithful readers,
Please check out the new Disclaimer page on this site so we are all on the same page.
Between 1995 and 1998 there was an animated cartoon series entitled “Pinky and the Brain”. It was centered around two mice, Brain, a mad scientist, and Pinky, his idiot assistant. Brain’s main goal in life was “to take over the world!” I think one of his cousins has partly succeeded in Southern California’s Disneyland. Allow me to make my case:
To “Take over the World” you need to control the masses. Disneyland does that quite well. Over the three days we spent there with our grown daughters and two grandchildren I observed mind control at it’s finest.
First, you get the people to pay YOU so YOU can control them. At over $100 per person per day just to get into “The Happiest Place on Earth” you have already started the mind control. You have set the expectation. People are expecting to be made happy. They paid for it!
Second, you set the mood. On entry you are surrounded by pleasant music, clean streets, friendly people known as “Cast Members” to assist you in your every need. Your eyes are captivated by the sights of the quaint storefronts and costumed cast members.
Third, you keep the masses distracted by having several different lands to explore. Adventureland, Tomorrowland, New Orleans Square, Critter Country, Story Tale Land, The Land Time Forgot, The Land Time Shouldn’t Have Remembered, and Main Street, USA. Each filled with properly themed stores, eateries, rides, adventures and background music.
Now that the scene is set, the mind control begins. You are trained to wait. Where else in the world would you pay over $100 to be able to stand in lines? Most of the wait times were as long as 140 minutes! That’s 2 hours and 20 minutes in line! When you see a wait time of 30 minutes or less for a ride that lasts for 4 minutes you go “WooHoo!” and step right up! WHAT!?!
Then there are the fine dining establishments in rodent land. When the mouse asks you to fork over $12 for a burger, $5.95 for a soda, AND you wait 20 minutes in line first, you feel grateful. If it was a McDonald’s and you were waiting that long for a $4.00 burger you would have the manager tied up and beaten by that clown that lurks around there. Mind Control!!!!
Where else in the world would you pay over $100 to be able to walk down a street with 50,000 other people not only at your side but in front of you and behind you, not to mention the strollers, wheel chairs, handicapped scooters and really slow old people and you still feel happy to be there? Mind Control!!!! If it were in your town you would put a cattle guard on the front of your truck and plow them out of your way.
Where else in the world would you pay over $100 to be charged double for a tee shirt just because it has a rodent on it? Think that sounds crazy? I observed over 75% of the people in the park the days I was there were wearing Disney themed shirts and sweaters! Myself included! Mind Control!!!! Target and Walmart would go out of business if they tried to charge you $28 for a tee shirt, even if it had a rodent on it.
Now, I would like to address the type of people you see at “The Happiest Place on Earth”. Whenever our family made a trip to Disneyland we would always pay close attention to the people around us. We had made it a sort of sick game in our family. We have had “Mullet Cam Day”, ” Butt Crack Cam Day”, “Muffin Top Cam Day”, “Oh My God – You Got To Be Kidding Cam Day” in the years past but now the world has changed so far that even we, the most politically incorrect family in the world, are hesitant as we would be forced to have “Dress Like a Prostitute Cam Day”, “Find a person Without a Tattoo Cam Day” and “Nose Ring Cam Day”.
Granted, we did make the mistake of coming to the Rodent’s World the week before Halloween but most of the people I was talking about were not in costume, at least, not on purpose. Many people did wear a costume to the park and this opens up another line of questions.
Where in the world would you pay over $100 to go to a public place dressed like a dog, witch, zombie, skeleton, super hero or a bag of potatoes? (I think that last costume was not intended to look like that but apparently they had so called friends that wouldn’t tell them the truth.) Imagine the looks they received on their way to the park. What if they got pulled over for speeding?
“Exactly why are you dressed as a Yak sir?”
Yes, the world has gone mad and a rodent in southern California can control the minds of the masses. But, then again, what else is new?
Most people would use the bad word for poop in place of the word “stuff” but I don’t like cussing.
We have heard that statement, seen it on bumper stickers and may have even uttered it ourselves (shame on you!). It usually is used in a negative context to explain why bad things happen. It really is a true statement though. While negative things do happen to each and every one of us it is up to us on how we deal with it.
In my case it is the recent diagnosis of BvFTD (Behavioural Varient Frontotemporal Dementia or Pick’s disease.)
The symptoms of BvFTD are personality changes, apathy, and a progressive decline in socially appropriate behavior, judgment, self-control, and empathy.
That first symptom, personality changes. I have recently noticed that behavior in my interactions with Angie (my first and only girlfriend). She says I’ve been a little crabby lately. I would change the two “b’s” in “crabby” to two “p’s”, but then I don’t like cussing…… My children have agreed with her in that sentiment also and I always trust what they say, unless they are wrong…..
The second symptom, apathy. I really don’t care about that.
The third symptom, “a progressive decline in socially appropriate behavior, judgment, self-control, and empathy”. Pretty much describes me for most of my life, so apparently I was born with that part. That is except for the “empathy” part. I have empathy for all people but symptom number two may kick in at any moment so what can I say?
I choose to have fun with everything I face. I do this with all the things that happen in my life. A positive attitude goes a long way. I firmly believe that statement. My father was diagnosed with terminal prostate cancer and was given 18 months to live. He chose not to allow that to happen and he passed away 11 years later only because he gave up when mom died.
The prognosis for BvFTD, according to my doctor, is 7 – 10 years. I choose not to cooperate in this matter. That’s one of the symptoms anyway. I used to work in the medical field when I was young (Please see the post entitled “Hospital Stories” ). From my three and a half years working in the hospital, I discovered why they refer to the medical trade as a “practice of medicine”. I hereby rest my case.
In my humble opinion, nothing changes. I have alway been blessed with a positive outlook on life. My children always said that on my headstone they would simply put “He was a nice guy” as that is my reply to anything negative that is said to me about anyone else. How do I deal with “stuff” in life? I’m glad you asked:
1.) My faith. If you have been a regular reader of this blog you are already aware that my family and I are Jehovah’s Witnesses. I go out of my way not to mention details of my beliefs. This format, a public blog, is not the appropriate platform for propounding my faith. If anyone would like to know more about Jehovah’s Witnesses please go to their official website at jw.org . If anyone would like a one on one discussion of my scriptural beliefs please feel free to use the “contact us” page and I would be happy to do so with you. Public forums, such as this one, only open up opportunities for those that strongly disagree with you (aka “Haters”) to spout their personal feelings. (If that is the case in your world, please feel free to start your own blog and I will feel free not to read it.)
2.) My attitude. While this is closely related to my belief system it is also just my personal way of dealing with things. Let’s face it. I’m a little “off”. My personal motto is “I’m so positive, when I go fishing, I take Tauter sauce!” well, that and “Don’t sweat the petty things and by all means, don’t pet the sweaty things.” If you would like an in-depth overview of the inner workings of my mind please refer to the “Stuff You Might Have Missed” button and read any of the 46 posts or listen to the 15 podcasts on this site as of date. I will warn you, proceed at your own risk as my outlook is highly contagious.
3.) My personal view of the future. Again, closely related to my faith but also a way that I simply view the lives we have. Like all of you, my family and I have been through a great amount of personal loss and suffering. I never view these situations as a negative. I view it as a challenge to be overcome. For example, this current issue of BvFTD is an opportunity to show the world what I am made of. Look at the positives here. I now have a “reason” for my stupidity in life. It is no longer an “excuse”. A doctor has confirmed it! Now, while it may be inappropriate to climb up on a billboard about a “Run for Alzheimer’s” in the middle of the night and attach a poster that simply says “Don’t Forget!” now you know why I would do it! ( If anyone with a loved one or perhaps you yourself are suffering from this horrible condition please know that I can understand your pain. I have lost quite a few close friends to Alzheimer’s and Dementia. Unfortunately, I’m a sick man. If you have any doubt please reread this blog.)
What Can You Do?
I’m glad you asked:
1.) Be patient. Remember this is a “progressive” disease. If I go too far, please let me know. My wife and children have become experts at that already. Just use the comment feature at the bottom of this post.
2.) Remember. This is a light hearted blog. It is meant to be humorous. It is also a great therapy for me. I now have a reason, not an excuse.
3.) Smile. It is the easiest thing to do. A smile can make your day if you see someone else with one directed at you. Be that someone to make someone else feel better.
4.) Life goes on. So will this web site. I am planning on continuing to blog and podcast as long as I can. I am actually planning on the status quo for quite some time. That reminds me of a joke:
You know how to make God laugh?
Tell him your plans………
After I turned 50 my family, along with everyone else in my life, were constantly recommending that I should start eating healthier. While I was appreciative of their concern for me, I would always reply “Eat what you like, die when you should”. I saw the suggestion of watching what I eat as a restriction on what I can or cannot do. Did I ever mention I’m stubborn and hard headed? My oldest brother lives in the State of New Hampshire. Their license plates has the motto ‘Live Free or Die” printed on them. I have thought of moving out there just to get that license plate but it is too cold in the winter and the locals are always staring at you with that look on their face as if they can’t decide if they want to shoot you or buy you a beer. A little too much living free and not enough dying going on in my opinion.
Now that I have reached the ripe old age of 62, I look back on my youth (anything under 61) as foolishness and folly. Oh, I have no regrets. I had a great time associating with such riff raff as McDonald’s, Burger King, Dairy Queen (I secretly suspect shenanigans were going on between those last two), Carl’s Junior and the like. Not to mention a close relationship with all the micro breweries and hot wing establishments in Northern California.
Did you ever stop to look at yourself naked in the mirror? Oh, I’m not talking about when you were in your teens to thirties, I’m talking about when you have aged past those glory days. When you were young it was an amazing experience. You would pose proudly, guys strutting around, girls sashaying around (or whatever it is the female specie does), people who were not sure of what they were just sort of staring off into the image and using their imagination. Everything was proudly in it’s place and displaying itself in a firm and gravity proof manner.
Now, as that time has long past, it is a scary sight. Especially for me as I had apparently become “hefty”, “chunky”,” large boned”, and somewhat huge. I thought the dogs followed me around all the time outside because they loved me but now I realize they were just trying to stay in the shade. I was developing a plural chin. My pecs would fit into a “B” cup. I had forgotten what anything south of the belly button looked like. My cute “love handles” had become flaps. People in Mexico would call me “Gordo” while I always replied ” no, my name is Derek”.
About two months ago my beautiful bride, Angie, announced we were going on a diet. As this was shortly after my encounter with the naked fat man in my mirror, I agreed. Some of Angie’s friends had been raving about a diet plan called “The Macronazi” they had found on the internet. At first I thought it was a web site about minute Nazis goose stepping their way to health. It turned out to be this nice lady named Melody that taught you how to eat properly. The “Nazi” part of the website name is indicative of how disciplined the diet plan is but I secretly suspect that Melody might have worn black in a previous life. Allow me to explain that last part.
I had been texting Melody after several weeks of the diet and she stated that we get a “cheat” meal because of the progress we made. I told her I was going to have a burger and a beer. She texted back saying the burger was fine and to add fries but the beer was off the menu. I replied that I would not eat the fries and would send her $2 if I could have the beer. She replied that she didn’t need the money and I didn’t need the carbs from the beer. She then reminded me that she was the MacroNazi and that she ate puppies for breakfast. I resisted asking her if they were low fat puppies.
We are now 8 weeks into the diet and I must admit, it’s not bad. I thought diets were evil things that made sane people do insane things. This diet lets you eat a lot of food. It is just good food. No processed stuff, very little sugar, lots of protein like steak, fish and chicken. Angie, being the master wizard in the kitchen, has developed some marvelous meals that are delicious. As a result, Angie is down 20 pounds and I am down 17 pounds! 37 pounds total so far. That is a small child, a very large turkey, medium sized dog, an Ewok or a Mini Me! Our queen sized bed is now roomy. We can pass each other in the hallway without having to suck in. I went down to an “A” cup.
I am now a devout believer in eating healthy. My children are amazed and wonder what ever happened to their hard headed, stubborn father while at the same time they are a little disappointed that there will be a delay in the distribution of the life insurance money they were counting on.
I still say, “Eat what you like and die when you should” but now I like healthy, clean food and that dying part will be a little delayed. I still wonder, though, what low fat puppies over quinoa with Thai peanut sauce would taste like?
Please note: No puppies were harmed in the making of this blog.
Fat Boy, aka, Felix tragically passed away Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Fat Boy was survived by the humans that he kept, the dogs he tolerated, the Koi he wanted to eat but was too lazy, the backyard rats that live under the deck and enjoyed eating out of his bowl in front of him because, again, he was too lazy to stop them (in fact, he was offended they did not put any food in his mouth as a thank you gesture).
Fat Boy died tragically when the near sighted protector of the back yard, Buster, mistook him for an invading elephant seal in a cat suit. He was interned under the orange tree by J. Franklin back hoe service / pet mortuary. Fat Boy was around 11 years old.
He will be greatly missed by all that knew him.
He will be remembered as the “talking” cat when he would assume his daily turtle pose and he would look up and say “rowe”, indicating that the belly rubs can commence.
He loved to sit on my lap whenever he could so he could lovingly provide the 3 lbs. of fur that he would leave there when he decided to get up. (Little known fact: Fat Boy was well invested in lint roller stock.)
We will miss his independent attitude that could quickly be changed when you would rattle the cat food in his bowl at him.
Fat Boy was very proud of his more than obvious butt hole that he would proudly present to everyone’s face whenever the opportunity arose.
Fat Boy was diagnosed with “tailaphobia” in the last year of his life. He was terrified with his tail and would run (correction – waddle) away from it whenever he saw it. He would bravely attack it whenever it had the audacity to brush his face and would retreat in shock and pain after he chewed on it for a while.
The dogs will greatly miss Fat Boy’s tasty “Kitty Roca” treats that he would leave in his cat box for them daily. The humans of his family, however, will not miss the foul breathed “kisses” the dogs would subsequently give their masters immediately after the crunchy treat.
Fat Boy will be remembered for his occasional brave ventures into the front yard where he would refuse to come back in until he would be found in the morning at the front door with a shocked looked on his fuzzy face and an expression that said: “There’s animals out there!”
Angie will not miss the daily chore of sweeping up half a cat in loose Fat Boy hair that he would loving deposit on the floor and furniture he constantly rubbed up against to show his love of everything in the home.
In memorandum, please enjoy this pictorial representation of Fat Boys love of life:
Please Click on the Link Below – Fat Boy Trying To Bathe Himself.
Farewell Fat Boy
You Were The Best Fat Cat We Ever Had
Looking at the title of this podcast you might think this is going to be a gross story. Your right, but when Angie is involved it makes it more fun and less gross.
The world has definitely changed since I dated/courted Angie (June 13, 1975 to April 2, 1977). Back then, we didn’t have all the technical distractions that exist today. We actually talked. Our conversations were private and not read by our friends or even people we don’t know. Our reason for dating was not just for a “good time” or to look cool. We actually learned about each other, our thoughts, hopes, dreams and fears. Sex was something reserved for marriage and we were careful to follow the guidelines we were raised with.
Some may look at our stand as “old fashioned” or too “strict”. In today’s social climate it is rare to have two virgins marry. We didn’t mind, actually learning to properly love each other was quite the adventure. Especially with Angie’s personality in mind.
Early in our marriage Angie decided to “spice things up” by buying a “sexy nightie”. We lived in Idaho at the time and the small town of Twin Falls did not have nor let alone know of places like Victoria’s Secret (BTW – I’ve seen their catalogs and Victoria doesn’t have any secrets left). So Angie went to the local Kmart for her purchase. She took her best friend, Julie, with her and giggled and laughed together while looking through the vast amount of “sexy nighties” available. (I imagine she had at least 3 or 4 choices.)
That night Angie told me she had a special surprise for me at bedtime. I let my imagination run amuck while she changed into her “outfit”. When she walked into the bedroom my response was not what she expected. Please allow me to describe her outfit. It was a red see through short nightie with large amounts of red feathers covering the appropriate areas. I started laughing hysterically while she dropped down to all fours and crawled out of the bedroom.
Angie now tells that story to all her friends. You see, she wasn’t terribly mad at me even though I felt real bad when I got my breath back from laughing. We both smiled and chalked it up to our youthful innocence. That’s why, 41 years later, we are still laughing at our selves. It keeps the marriage strong.
When our daughters came of the age to date we instilled the same standards that we had. Dating was for marriage, not for entertainment. Our oldest daughter learned at the age of 16 that sneaking around behind her parent’s back was not a good idea. Angie had gone into her room because Marisa had not put her washed clothes away as requested. While Angie was doing that, she discovered a packet of “love letters” and a small stuffed animal from a local boy named Joey.
When Marisa got home from school she was sent straight to her room to await the arrival of the father person, aka The Executioner.
When I arrived at home I was presented with the evidence. After carefully reading all of the letters I went into Marisa’s room to find her in the fetal position on the bed in a flood of tears. I comforted my distraught daughter and asked her if she really loved him. She responded:
“I think so”
I asked:”Do you think both of you are ready for marriage?”
“No” she replied through her tears.
I reasoned with her and after discussing the facts she agreed it was not the right time to start dating. I thanked her for her reasonableness and asked her one final question:
What is Joey’s phone number?”
Later that night I had an intense conversation with Joey with his father present. My final words to him were:
“When you think you are old enough for marriage and you want to court my daughter, please prove your a man and respectfully approach me first”
Joey agreed and that was the last we saw of him. I am happy to say that Marisa found her Knight in Shining Armor and has been happily married to Daren for over 18 years now. Yes, he asked me first.
When my daughter Ashley came of age I was approached by a young man who asked me if he could date my daughter. Apparently Ashley learned from her older sister and avoided the embarrassment her sister experienced. I replied to him:
“Are you sure? You know she’s crazy, takes after her mother.”
Gregg laughed softly and acknowledged his awareness of her “issues”.
“Are you sure?” I repeated, “I’m not kidding, if she misses her medication your gonna have to hide all the sharp objects.”
The boy didn’t listen to me and six months later he again approached me and asked for her hand in marriage.
“Are you sure?” I again asked, “You are aware that she only has one operation left to make her a real woman.”
Gregg thought I was kidding and again requested her hand.
“Ok,” I said, “Please know that we have a strict no return policy.”
They have been married 11 years now. He only tried to return her once and it didn’t work.
Yes, we are old fashioned. We feel that the standards we stuck to really helped our kids develop into almost normal people.
As a service to all fathers out there I have made up the following document:
APPLICATION TO DATE MY DAUGHTER
1.) Full name:____________________________________ (This means what do people call you?)
2.) Address:_____________________________________( This means where do you live?)
3.) Name and address of closest living relative:_________________ ( Just in case you mess around with my daughter then the police will know who the next of kin are. )
4.) Contact information :_____________________________ ____________________________________________ ( Please include all phone numbers, social media sites with sign on names and passwords so your pages can be reviewed for inappropriate pictures – videos – music, your email address, driving record and criminal record –Note: If you have a criminal record please put down the application and leave the premises immediately!)
5.) Place of employment:______________________________ (Please attach 5 years of employment records)
6.) Annual income:_________________________________ (Please attach 5 years of income tax records)
GENERALINFORMATION: (please circle all applicable items)
Sex: Male Female Not sure Haven’t Checked Checked but not sure (Note: if you handwrite “yes” in this section please put down this application and leave the premises immediately!)
Type of Transportation:
1.) Car 2.) Pickup Truck without a lift kit
3.) Pickup Truck with a lift kit (indicating compensation for something)
4.) Van without a bed in it 5.) Van with a bed in it (If circled put down the application and leave the premises immediately!)
6.) Bicycle 7.) Skateboard
8.) Don’t know what transportation means
1.) Are you missing any body parts? ____
2.) Do you have any additional body parts? _____
3.) Do you have any additional holes in your body that you were not born with? _____ (If yes, please attach a doctor’s note as to why they are there)
4.) Do you have any tattoos? ____ (If yes, were you intoxicated at the time?)
(Please note: All spelling, grammar counts.)
(No crayons or hand drawn pictures)
1.) In fifty words or less, please describe what “Don’t touch my daughter!” means to you:
2.) In fifty words or less, please describe what “abstinence” means to you:
3.) Please list the top three body parts you do not want removed:
(No slang please, I.E. “junk” is not a body part.)
Please allow 7 years to process your application. While you wait for the processing please note that ANY contact with my daughter will void your application and trigger a visit from my East Coast Family, Bubba, Fat Frank, Little Frank and Uncle Corleone’.
For expedited handling please attach $500 cash to this application (no small bills please, no refunds)
Disclaimer: I am not afraid of going back to prison.
Got a bucket list? You can’t say you did it all if you never went shopping with Angie.
My oldest daughter, Marisa, was on a girls trip with her friends to Lake Tahoe where they shared a rental home for 5 days. One of her friends was bringing her 5 year old daughter, Jasmine, with her so Marisa thought it would be nice to take her 5 year old nephew, Henry, with her. This is one of the supposedly wise children of mine that has remained childless by choice. Apparently she let sentiment get in the way and cloud her judgement. It was not long until reality hit her in the face, sort of.
The following is a literal transcript from a group text my daughter Marisa sent out after the first night.
“Last night, when I got ready for bed, I was coming into our room after washing my face and the following conversation took place:
Henry: “Your face looks different.”
Me: “I washed my makeup off.”
Henry: “You look like a tired zombie.”
This morning after kicking me all night and getting me up at 6:30am….
Me: “Morning bubby.”
Henry: “Can you put your makeup on now?””
Another text followed several days later.
“The difference between boys and girls. Jasmine is quietly making a sandcastle. Henry is throwing wet sand on his crotch.”
Marisa’s sister Ashley replied:
“At least he isn’t throwing it at her crotch”
“That comes in 13 years.””
This proves 2 points:
1.) My children have inherited their father’s inappropriate wit.
2.) Children are like little drunks. They are very blunt and very honest. They say what they see.
Angie and I witnessed that in the 30 years, 2 months and 27 days that we spent raising our rabble.
When Marisa was 2 years old we were living in Idaho. One day I heard her call out from her mommy and daddy’s bedroom:
“Daddy! I found a yellow yucky!”
I went in to see her great discovery and to my horror saw my little one holding up a used latex birth control device. We are grateful that this child did not have a balloon obsession.
My nephew was 5 years old when I walked past him and saw he was hanging onto “himself” very tightly. I asked him if he needed to go to the potty and he said:
“Then why are you grabbing yourself so tight?” I asked.
“It feels good” he replied.
I quickly informed his father that his son is in need of “the talk.”
My first son, Benjamin, was with us at our place of worship when he approached a very well endowed lady and informed her that she had “big boobs”. Benjamin was also the one who got into a van full of his mothers friends and exclaimed “Ewe! Who farted?” It was only after years of counseling and therapy that we felt comfortable in bringing him out in public again.
Our youngest daughter, Ashley, is more of a inappropriate visual type than the inappropriate talking type. Again, we were at our place of worship when Ashly had a small “accident” on the way there. Angie merely removed the soiled underwear and told her to keep her dress down. Wrong thing to tell a very animated child. The moment she got into the building she saw an older woman she liked and shouted:
“Sandy! I don’t have any panties on!” while raising her dress up over her head.
This is the same child that developed the unpopular habit of sneaking up behind people and pinching them on the inner thighs. She did that to an Elder in our congregation while he was bent over getting a drink from the water fountain. He almost put his head through the wall behind the fountain. Our family was banned to the back of the auditorium for several years. Ashley is now 30 years old and still in therapy.
Our youngest son, Tristan, was always quiet. I do not recall any inappropriate utterances as the boy just did not talk much. Those are the scary ones. We voted him as the one who would earn great fame in a clock tower with a sniper rifle. (Just kidding Tris, please don’t advance me up on your “hit list”.) Last time I checked I was at #6. I am comfortable in that position as I have great confidence the police will find him before he gets to me.
Our grandchildren have continued the family trait of inappropriateness as can be seen by the first story involving Henry. Not to be left out, his older brother, Hayden, has uttered a few choice observations of his own. There was the time his grandmother was changing in front of him when he was 2 years old and let out a loud “Yuck!” when she got down to her underwear. Then there was the time that he was running around without his shirt off and noticed those two dark circle on his chest. He ran up to his auntie and asked what they were. She informed him that they were called his nipples and that everyone had them. “Can I see yours?” he asked. After a long pause, the subject was quickly changed.
At a group Bible study the subject of the day was the Resurrection. The conductor asked the question:
“What does the word resurrection mean?”
A young boy raised his hand and said:
“I’m not sure but I heard on TV that if you have one for more than 4 hours you have to go to the doctor.”
I think we can finish this discussion with a classic comment our then 5 year old Benjamin said while we were visiting the Sacramento zoo. We were watching the elephants when one of the beasts lifted his tail straight up and the rear end of the thing started pooching out until a large deposit of digested elephant food landed on the ground with a large “plop”. Benjamin observed this event with rapt attention and then exclaimed loudly to everyone present:
“Dad! That elephant’s bottom fell off!”
I am happy to announce the return of the podcast “We’re Not Crazy, We’re Just a Little Insane”
In this episode Angie’s clothing optional ways come back to haunt her.