I strongly recommend you click on the link, sent to me by The Hurricane.
Now I know who I am. I have discovered my true identity: I am a comma fucker.
It's kind of like being a teenager and finding out that Oh thank the Lord your parents really did adopt you and Paul McCartney is your true father.
Not that I ever imagined such a thing. Before I found out how nuts he was, I wanted Howard Hughes to be my real father. His representative would show up at our door and deem me worthy of being the wealthy man's daughter. Daddy Howard would arrive and swoop me up and carry me off in a private plane while I waved a happy goodbye to the obnoxious strangers who had pretended to be my parents.
How dare they insist that I clean up my room? Daddy Howard would provide a maid for my personal use. Maids are there to clean rooms. Not me. I was meant for bigger things. Daddy would let me finish high school at home and then he would groom me to take over one of his most important companies.
Oh, Daddy. Why did you have to die crazy with the whole world knowing that your finger and toe nails were long and thick for wont of being cut? And who was my real mommy? Did I even have a real mommy, or did you hatch a scheme for me to be born in a womb with a view?
I guess I have to spend the rest of my life knowing that I am, in fact, my wonderful (late) parents' daughter. Those people produced a true comma fucker.
Infinities of love,
By the bye, I wish I had an award for Stephanie (a.k.a. Stephanola to my Janieola) at http://thestephanieconnection.blogspot.com/. Her suggestion for my book title, Poop! There It Is! makes me laugh out loud every time I look at it. Stephanie, You are a real gem. You have no idea how difficult it is to make me laugh out loud, especially repeatedly. I tend to be a laugh on the inside kind of person unless I'm with The Hurricane. She makes me laugh so hard I could just wet myself.