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I am very skilled at delivering pithy one-liners. So much so that the confidence with which I do so -- and by "doing," I am including preparation time, delivery, and nonchalant postpartum charm -- allows me to sleep better at night, in as much as I have no true social life, possess over-eager bowels (whom I have deemed "Lucky" and "Frisky," assuming there are two), and am unable to offer more than an unmemorable handshake when meeting new people, despite my father's (hereditary, so I'm told) penchant for crushing fellow hands with a masterful grip, a capability which should have been passed on to me. But I did get that barely distended testicle Aunt Frances used to talk about, right, Pops? (I hate you, Mendel.) I am not unlike you, Reader(s)... ...help me...
Date Written: March 03, 2006
Average Vote: 5