"Is that a Burka in your pocket or are you just trying to control me?"
I am a woman who "used" to be more respectful of men then I am today. But then the world is supposed to end today so I do not have to work on this later in life cynical brain thought I have gotten from "God" knows where. (really, ya think from God NOT!) Probably from the culprits themselves. Men that is. Just like anything, some good, some bad, some just there.
There would be one in particular I am discussing and not from any cynical part of my beautiful brain. This would be, George. We will call him to protect the innocent, that being the wife relaying what I am using in this little bitty not so newsworthy blog post information site.
George! George! George! Who taught you? Where are you from? And its not even close to Mars.... You George are a grump. You George are a passive aggressive hunka hunka burning un-love. You George drive a brand new SUV and your wife drives a 13 year old Buick and you bitch if she wants new carpet in it. George! And George, you never say nice things to her, in fact you say ugly things to your wife George. You yell at her George if she withdraws $50 from the bank once a month. You hide whiskey under your under ware in your closet in your den George! I saw it George! Then you fall down and break your crown George! You don't like the birds because the bird food costs money. I'm surprised you purchase food for your wife George. No wonder she loves the dog more! There are two of you and she picked the best one. Dog that is. You tell her every day how the money is going to run out. Really George, really, come on...the money is not going to run out unless the world ends today or next week. You have money George...you are merely a miser, a grump, and could stand to go to Miss Manners school for crotch-ity old men! You almost died a couple times George, obviously you didn't get to see the big white light that held instructions for some. Nope. Cause there's still a Burka next to the bottle in your bedroom buddy!
IF I cared, I'd draw you a map of your a** with an X marking the spot where your head is buried...I never underestimate the predictability of your stupidity & immaturity at best...I'm starting to think it can't be the Head-Up-A** Syndrome, because there's got to be more oxygen & more light up even the oldest fattest a** than could account for such rampant & long-lasting abnegation of me! So honey, stop it! Love Esther