I'd like to have a talk with Tom Arnold.
Just to talk.
About stuff.
Just talk.
Bagster
Bagster
You're going to have to take a number for that, bags.
Grandma walked by just as I was scrolling past the post mentioning his latest yapping, saw the content and left the room without saying another word. (That's a sign of REAL bad news from that little rancher's daughter.)
I'm figuring that the best you would get after Melania and Grandma got done with "talking" to Mister Arnold is helpin' me mop him up.
Did you ever happen to read Kipling's poem about PO'd Ladies? I think the title was something like "Deadliest of the Species"...