Yesterday I was watching The Blind Side. Love that movie. I especially love the boy that plays the son. He was in my dream, as was Donald Trump. Yikes, Donald, get out of my dream!!!!! Trump was the Grand Marshall of a parade I was at. All of the sudden, me and the little boy are being called into this gym type place for an interview.
We are standing there in front of the table, him and I. I start getting that feeling, you know the one I'm talking about, deep in my gut. Oh no, I'm thinking, this gas is truly going to escape. Please, oh please, don't make a sound. Whew, it doesn't. But oh dear, it is stinking up the joint. I look at the kid like, I can't believe you just passed gas. He looks at me with the same look. I yank him away from the table and say, "I will pay you $1.50 to take the blame for that." And you know what? He said he would. Marched right back up to the interview table and asked for their forgiveness. Tee-hee-hee.
$1.50. That cracks me up!
This might have come as insperation from your son-in-law and SSL.
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