The stupid royal baby was born.
Royal witchdoctors claim there are no mutations of any kind, so they've decided to name her.
They're going with Princess Glenda.
I always caution parents: Name your daughter Glenda and she might end up marrying a Barry.
Duke Barry of the Gas Station, maybe.
Lord Barry of the Moors.
Anyway, you all know my thoughts on the royal family.
If I might discuss we peons for a moment, I did a thing the other night.
Turpin's school held their first annual Talent For Turpin talent show.
This is designed to make children feel sad while bilking parents out of donation money.
It's a good thing.
They asked me to be - not a judge, exactly - but like, a talent-advice-coach-guy.
It was pretty neat for the most part.
A lot of kids from the play were involved, so that was cool.
The entire time I wrote stuff for Turpin in the margins of my program. The sort of notes (insults, mostly) we'd write to one another if we were watching something like this and she was alive.
It made the boring performances a little more fun.
No comments:
Post a Comment