*NOT THAT YOU ASKED By W.G. Reid, F.D.
A Few Minutes With Andy Rooney And My Dad
Putting aside the genetically pre-disposed Black Irish charm; (not unlike our second cousins the Draculs - only cheerier, less benign and replace the blood lust for all things Erin Burnett. Oh, and you're going to need a bigger wooden stake.): I had absolutely nothing in common with my father - except Andy Rooney.
It was a small but nice little connection that I've grown to appreciate more as I get older, fatter, more powerful and subsequently creepier with the gingered haired cashier at my Super Duper, whom (if my wife would just loosen up a bit) I'm pretty sure would so complete me.
I was, may I pre-face 'appropriately' so f*** you, dismissive when the BOB generation had to wipe their tears ("What are these liquid secretions coming from my seeing parts?") from their icrap stuff over Steve Jobs but I'll miss Andy Rooney. Oh, Erin Burnett. I love you but I knew Andy Rooney, Andy Rooney was a friend of mine - and deep dish, you are no Andy Rooney. (Not that you ever said you were.)
In tribute, I'm not shaving my eyebrows during the month of August and, I know it's cutesy, but I'll be referring to that month in future hand written post-its of import as....August. (I'm kidding. I don't post-its.)
God bless, you ol' fart. Both of you.
*William Reid is not a real doctor and any information or counsel provided within the contents of this blog are strictly for entertainment purposes only. Also, you should probably floss more.
It was a small but nice little connection that I've grown to appreciate more as I get older, fatter, more powerful and subsequently creepier with the gingered haired cashier at my Super Duper, whom (if my wife would just loosen up a bit) I'm pretty sure would so complete me.
I was, may I pre-face 'appropriately' so f*** you, dismissive when the BOB generation had to wipe their tears ("What are these liquid secretions coming from my seeing parts?") from their icrap stuff over Steve Jobs but I'll miss Andy Rooney. Oh, Erin Burnett. I love you but I knew Andy Rooney, Andy Rooney was a friend of mine - and deep dish, you are no Andy Rooney. (Not that you ever said you were.)
In tribute, I'm not shaving my eyebrows during the month of August and, I know it's cutesy, but I'll be referring to that month in future hand written post-its of import as....August. (I'm kidding. I don't post-its.)
God bless, you ol' fart. Both of you.
*William Reid is not a real doctor and any information or counsel provided within the contents of this blog are strictly for entertainment purposes only. Also, you should probably floss more.
