Did I ever tell you about the time that I got into this sticky situation at a bar that ultimately ended in a only-slightly-disfiguring scar when I took a bottle to the face (stoically, if I say so myself) but managed not to bleed on my reindeer sweater?
Or how about the one where I got viciously attacked by the late, great parakeet named Rusty (black arm band optional) who didn't like the cut of my gib but DID love the taste of my sweet, sweet flesh?
If you recall me telling you either of these stories, or any other story that somehow involves me acquiring a scar on my nostril, please contact me immediately. I've been wondering about it for a while.
1 comment:
Oh how I enjoy your posts! I have been away from the blogosphere a while but I remember why you were on my list of faves!
Post a Comment