Living with him is like a constant rerun of a 1980s game show. Dollies beaming ‘n wheeling a speedboat or motorhome, all promises without delivery, proclaiming, “look at what you could have won.”
The star prize frustrates me. If lips could build a stadium, they would come but then he flashes his winning smile and makes my tea as I like it during the Super Bowl break.
The star prize is outstanding in his field of being a decent ol’ skin.
And that’s official.