It was really interessting at first.
But as he got to the handguns I realized that I was slowly losing interest.
Which I then had to hide.
Which I then had to hide.
I don't believe that he noticed.
I think he likes talking about them.
And I got the impression that his family had heard it all.
He let me hold the .44.
But he wouldn't let me spin it on my finger.
So what's the point?
That man's daughter threw up in our car over the weekend.
And raspberry vodka had nothing to do with it.
Saturday morning and Charlotte looks miserable (as usual).
"I just threw up," she tells us.
Because, she suspects, she ate some of the expired meat in the fridge.
"Which meat?" That's me.
"The salami and stuff. I had a piece of that."
And I immediately got nervous.
Because I had had a whole plate of that expired meat.
I even had a piece of the chicken bologna.
She continued to vomit though.
And I eventually returned to my oblivious nature.
Hopefully she's just pregnant.
At one point dad was thumbing through The Telegram and Charlotte asked:
"Oh, what's my horoscope?"
"You're going throw up in a car today," I piped up.
Even dad laughed at that one.
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