In response to Madame DeFarge, who took a nasty spill (she missed a step) after attending a performance of the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain, I said,
Madame, I am deeply distressed by your misfortune. I can only hope that your tumble was not into the cheap seats amongst the common rabble!
I have lodged a complaint, on your behalf, to the so-called manager of the theatre. He assured me that all stairway lighting will be increased from one-half watt bulbs to one full watt.
Alice, whose young daughter was "hunched over in ape-like knuckle-dragging pouting position," told her, "If you keep standing like that you're going to stay that way forever." It's true:
When I used to make goofy faces as a boy, my mom always said that one day my face would freeze like that. She was absolutely correct, but I've learned to live with it.
Hope showed this photo of a tomato she harvested from her garden.
I was astonished:
Don't tell me my urology ultrasounds found their way to YouTube!!!
Pearl's friend "T.", a figment of her fertile imagination, mentioned that he threw away his socks because he's never really trusted them. I, too, have an opinion regarding socks:
I personally believe that socks make the man—they are a visible statement of his who-ness.
Unless, that is, socks are all he is wearing. There is nothing more stupid-looking in the world than a naked man in socks.
So that's it, my first foray into the mysterious maelstrom of commenting. How'd I do, Mami? (Please, no smarm. Smarm, like gruel and porridge, makes me throw up.)