If you don't remember me, I'm a character in Lynn's Burn Me Once, and a long time ago she said I could use her blog once in a while. If you wanna read my old pearls of wisdom, check here and here and Lynn first introduced me here.
Anyhoo, she said I could use her blog, but she never gives her computer up. "Sorry, Millie, I'm writing." "Sorry, Millie, I'm answering e-mail." "Sorry, Millie, I'm taking a workshop." Sorry Millie Sorry Millie Sorry Millie...COW PATTIES! Workshops and e-mails, my wrinkled hindquarters. I know what she's really doing. She forgets I live in her head (still scary as a red-eyed bull) and can see what's going on. She ain't doing those things. She's ogling pictures of stud muffins and watching those rock videos over and over again. Though I don't really mind those videos. Those two men are--what's the word? Hotties.
All I want to do is hop out here and talk to you nice folks once in a while. Maybe meet a Stud Muffin of my own. Is that too much to ask? Whatever happened to respecting your elders?
But I got her back. She ain't opened my story since the peanut guy was president--yes, I know she says it's Chad and Dakota's story, but you and I know the truth; it's mine--but she finally opened it up the other night. She had Dakota walking to the edge of town, confuzzled--I just learned that word, isn't it a pip?--confuzzled by her feelings for her Stud Muffin. When she stops and sits down on a footbridge, I enter stage right. So I follow along, and even give Dakota my trademark, "Hiya, Moon Pie!" greeting. But after that, I ain't sayin' a thing. I can't whistle, so I squinted up at the clouds and called out the shapes I saw. "Look, a giraffe!" "Look, space rocket!" "Look, a penis!"
Lynn got so irritated, she closed the file. Not sure when I'll be nice to her again. Since she waited months to let me blog (and she didn't really let me--I'm sneaking on while she's in the shower), I'm a-thinkin' it'll be months before she gets any good stuff out of me.
Oh, horse hockey. She's back.