I'm all grown up now and I'm all out of ironic comments. From here on I'm only going to write poetry about seagulls and tips on understanding escrow --plus, delicious new bundt cake recipes. I've consumed enough at Walmart and watched enough TV for 50 men, and now I am made whole in the eyes of social workers everywhere. A distilled and pliant man. I hereby surrender my soul to a future of shuffleboard tournaments and an I.V. line full of iced tea. I used to afraid of this sort of life, surrounded by doilies and porcelain figurines of dutch girls with geese. But, I must say, it's like a pair of soft slippers padding on purple clouds here on the "other side". You'll just have to carry on and don't worry about me.
ZZzZzzzzzzzzzz...
Meanwhile, here's a nice photo of an old firehouse in downtown LA that I took several months back. They don't make firehouses like they used to. They're not as cute. I think Donald Duck worked here in the 30's.
1 comment:
"Fire in th fire-station!"
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