Now Featuring The Incredible Shrinking “GIL” Mug

After a week of actual action and actual coaching in practice, we were overdue for some actual off-court wackiness in Milford. Where else would we have expected it than the teachers’ lounge?

Today’s strip finds Gil with a horribly dislocated hip and holding a stack of papers with what looks like a pile of French fries. Cue this MHS administrative type lady coming to him with news of player grades, presumably in his role as AD. Would this have not mattered more at the beginning of the season, when grades might determine eligibility? Or does Milford have some arcane rule that if your grades start dropping, you get kicked off the team?  That might explain the underachievement all these years.

Now what is it about Alexa’s academic issues that has caused Gil’s head to bobble and his coffee mug to shrink? Could it be that Mimi’s sudden emphasis on her playing offense has Alexa distracted from the books? Or was it Mimi’s playing grab-ass and the thoughts of blowing the whistle that have shaken her? Maybe Miss Watson is tired of the computer/virtual assistant jokes and is thinking that tanking a few grades may make those jokes go away. There’s never a good reason for sabotaging your chances of leaving a tank town, so the latter is kind of doubtful.

Alexa – Start A New Plot

Oh boy! This is our new plot. Alexa Watson has to endure idiotic jokes about her name. This is going to be great!

Sorry for the delay. I’m dogged by connectivity problems. Also, I spent most of yesterday shopping around for a vehicle with a roomy pink interior.

We’ll Do The Absentee Coaching Around Here.

What? The Haley’s M.O. Moment was just a put-on? Chance really wasn’t constipated? His bowels were moving fine, he didn’t need Mudlar-K-Cola Prune-Enriched to fuel his Toyota Corolla jump? He really wasn’t M.-O.K.??????????

What was he doing in the Port-o-Pot? A better question is what happened to all that T. P.????????? I heard of taking one for the team but this is ridiculous. I’m glad he stepped aside by faking his stomach cramps but there is an unaccounted-for amount of Charmin floating around the premises of Milford High School.

So next time you are substitute-teaching at Mudlarkland and you find this Mt. Everest amount of Bounty in the faculty bathroom, you’ll know that it was because SOMEONE remembered at Milford High “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘Team'”. Maybe in the word “Shit” but SOMEONE was “Shitting” for the “Team”. Supposedly, anyway.

“Mrs. Thorp, please don’t squeeze the Charmin!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I wasn’t, Mr. Whipple. I was testing the firmness of these cabbages. It’s our turn to bring the food for the Milford PTA meeting and I’m bringing Southwest Salad Supreme. Where’s your Newman’s Own Roquefort?”

 

And you talk about false advertising. At least SOMEONE was coaching by faking his taking one for the team by faking his swelling of hemorrhoidal tissues. So Rick Scott had to apply a liberal dose to Chance’s crack. Whoop-de-dah. At least his butt was in order and the trainer’s medicine cabinet has an ample supply of Preparation H next to the Flintstone’s Chewables. Nice to know that if Charlie is called upon to fill in again in a pinch to run up the score, Chance will have plenty of Barney’s and Wilma’s when he’s faking his migraines. And doing his part to exercise leadership in the process.

Oh, not Gil, nooooooooo. True, he took the time from Milford Lounge to visit Chance’s grandparents to be assured Chance wasn’t Norman Bates. But he could have sent Lassie to investigate. And saved the trouble of prolonging his absentee landlord status in relation to the football team.

“Lassie, what’d you find out?”

RUFF

“Chance was an ax murderer? How’d he get released?”

RUFF

“He and Papillon jumped the fence? Weren’t they in chains?”

RUFF

“Oh, they were playing flag football.”

RUFF

“And leading The Mean Machine by a touchdown.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“30 Rolls Of Milford Tree Farms Toilet Towels Found In Shower Stall Of O. J.’s Condo!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Trail stops cold after contraband unloaded from Milford Roadway terminal.”

 

When I came home last night

You wouldn’t make love to me

You went fast asleep

You wouldn’t even talk to me

 

Give it to me, what you say

Give it to me right away

 

“Dear, you’ll have to turn that down. Chance just went to bed. And put my wig back on the dresser when you’re done funking. I need it for the Embroidery 101 class at Milford High Night School.”

 

On our journey that is the Mudlark Football season, we approach P2 with some reservations. Like who all these people are, which we assume are the fans and families who are celebrating the victory and well they should. I’m having a bit of a problem with the Kent State arrangement of humanity after the Milford National Guard just stepped on the gridiron but I think we can hold our breath that nothing is going to occur. Gil can blow his whistle should a Guardsman aim his Uzi at Chance or Grandma Macy. The whistle is being used for something since it was hanging in the linen closet in Gil’s office, y’know, the one with the windows affording a view of the Trump Towers. Gil was out on the road on another stint of absentee coaching. I heard Courtyard by Marriott gave discounts to Coaches In Absentia.

“But the coupon said that if I was not coaching 10 times, I’d get the 11th stay in a double suite. Free. Shoot, I can’t remember the last time I told the team ‘Win one for The Gipper’. I think when Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was released.”

“But the coupon expired after the Tet Offensive.”

 

SOME PEOPLE MIGHT SAY I’M INFATUATED

BUT I DON’T CARE

CUZ THEY JUST DON’T KNOW

THEY’LL NEVER SEE OR HEAR…

 

 

THEY CAN ALL GO TO HELLLLLLLLL

YOU AND I (DO DOOO)

WE GET TOGETHER LIKE GIL AND SHAW (DO DO DOOOOOOO)

Kaz knocks on the door leading into the Intro Woods class which is tightly locked

“Luhm, are you OK? I can hear that music all the way down at The Bucket.”

Luhm rips the needle off of the Vintage Vinyl “Come Get It!!!!!!!!”

“Yeah, just gotta dust the lathe machine and then damp-mop and buffer the floor. I’m good.”

 

RIP, Rick James. Your funkadelic style was an inspiration to many.

 

And while they’re rioting in the streets of Milford in P2, does somebody have a surgical kit handy? I think Gil and Charlie just welded their hands together with a soldering tool. I’ve heard of a coach bonding with his players but this is ridiculous. I hope neither has to go to the bathroom anytime soon. Man, it’s a bitch when one of the Siamese Twins has to let off a load in the Port-o-Pot. The other one can get the Charmin to wipe, assuming Luhm replaced the stolen merchandise.

 

If yore 3rd-shift foreman at Milford Foundry is bein’ non-existent but ya reach yore produk’tivitee goals in yore department and the man comes around ta reward y’all by turnin’up the air conditioner one degree so ya don’t sweat thru yore Hanes T-shirt so bad or smelly, ya might be a redneck.

 

And P3 arrived at the train station right on time.

One of the things I learned when I was pursuing a foreign language in school was that foreign countries, especially Europe, prided themselves on how PUNCTUAL their passenger trains were.

Well, the Orient Express couldn’t have arrived any sooner to practically take the credit for Charlie’s success. And as you can see, Bluto is willing to risk Foot-in-Beard disease to achieve his stated objectives.

Now before we go any further, I am inspired by Bluto’s Weight Watcher program that he has inflicted on himself. Last I remember, he had a paunch that could crush Olive Oyl in the opening round of the Milford Sumo Wrestling Holiday Tournament.

In P3, he has evidently weighed his portions punctiliously, using the metric balance scales he hocked from the Milford School Corporation Science Supply Building while fishing for Chance’s records. Hey, I need to lose a few pounds myself. Bluto, the next time you are in the complex digging for Chance’s dental records (“The pediatrician prescribed Poly-Grip????????”) , would you slip a balance my way? I need to count my Ritz Crackers wisely.

NOW, why in the name of Agatha Christie were we not surprised when Bluto showed his face again? This was the proverbial “Not if, but WHEN”. J. Wellington Wimpy, 1000 Bucket Burgers up his butt while munching on a Big Mac was not going to take part in the baccanalian affairs on the football field (A Funny Thing Happened To Me On The Way To The Football Field-“Something appealing, something appalling…”) to locate Charlie and talk about his TD run. Swee’ Pea was in bed. NO, BLUTO WAS GOING TO UPSTAGE POPEYE ONCE AGAIN AND SAY HE WAS THE ONE WHO INSPIRED HIM TO RUN LIKE FRANCO HARRIS OR ANY OF YOUR FAVORITE NFL RUNNING BACKS. Popeye forgot to eat his spinach and couldn’t inspire you to run around your living room or Gil’s office. Popeye and Bluto will not be at Denny’s for breakfast and Christian fellowship.

That off my chest, notice Gil doing a double-take in P3. The predictable continues. Stay tuned.

Assuming you’re well-endowed with Sominex.

 

“And that’s the gun signaling the end of the game. Milford wins it in a laugher, 121-10. I’ll have all the stats for you in a moment. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

 

SHE’S A VERY KINKY GIRL

THE KIND YOU DON’T BRING HOME TO MOTHER

SHE WILL NEVER LET YOUR SPIRITS DOWN

ONCE YOU GET HER OFF THE FIELD

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

 

“Yeah?”

“Gil, your wife just called again. It’s 10:35. Don’t you think you ought to go home to bed?”

“Kaz, I’m as lame as a lollipop that’s been out in the sun too long. I couldn’t stiff if I put on Dean Martin’s “Houston.”

“But Gil, you’ve been playing Super Freak for 3 hours. And I hope you aren’t dancing in your Fruit of the Loom boxers again.”

“Crap. I forgot that Luhm didn’t fix the curtain rod. Do you think anybody can see the lemon-lime pattern?”

“Maybe in the Trump Towers but they’d have to use binoculars and care about what you look like when dressed down to your Calvin Klein Boysenberry Print.”

“It’s just that Rick James gets me in the right mood. Sometimes it takes a little longer, especially after I’d eaten that Fazoli’s Sampler. Lasagna just slows any Erectile process. Bit me and Rick will be partying like it’s 1999. And I’ll be sawing the logs with Mimi cuz I’ll have something hard to saw with.”

“Gil, I think you mean Prince.”

A momentary check into the record inventory

“That’s right. I’ll be gettin’ pumped to Purple Rain by midnight.”

“Gil, I think a better solution would be checking out all the ways Milford Men’s Clinic can help you. They have proven techniques and equipment and you don’t need Milford Book and Music Exchange to solve your problem.”

“You’re saying I won’t need O’Jays ‘Money, Money, Money’ to junp on Mimi with confidence?”

“Gil,  I think you answered your own question.”

 

“There it was. I was confident to open my office door and let Kaz see me in my Hanes Fred Flintstone Print Boxers and Rick James wig. Price you pay if you want to be consistently efficient with your Significant Other. And I am having great sex and couldn’t care less if the tenant on the 11th floor of the Trump Towers sees us. They need to watch infomercials anyway. Come to Milford Men’s Clinic and be your own Funkmeister. Whay have you got to lose but the wig?

 

Gang, go to it. You have truly been patient and I thank you. I just hope Bluto doesn’t dig into my records and find out the reason.

 

At the Milford School Board meeting one evening

“And I also have records when his dad was down in the south, doing heists with Pretty Boy Floyd. What more evidence do we need to declare that Chance is not fit for the football team?”

“Mr. James, some of the evidence is circumstantial-”

“That’s Mr. Ballard!!!!!!!! You don’t recognize me?”

“The dreadlocks don’t match the beard.”

 

At the Milford Comedy Club on Open Mike Night

“…what do I look like, Rick James on the Quaker Oats label?”

Mimi stands up

“I better go out for a smoke break. Anybody got a light?”

“But you don’t smoke. When did you take up the cancer sticks?”

“Believe me, Gil is worth 2 cartons of Virginia Slims.”

Oh, What a Feeling!

Is Chance trying out for the cheerleading squad or auditioning to sell Toyotas?

I realize I’m dating myself with the latter reference (“Ok Boomer” is the pissy way the kids are saying it this week IIRC). Speaking of pissy, nice shift from pissy-faced to all smiles by old Gildeaux there. You’d think Gil would be having a cow about one of his starters benching himself with a fake injury to give his backup some playing time, but it didn’t faze him that much when True Standish did it for Jarrod Hale a few years back.

Nope, Gil’s just relieved that Chance is staying away from The Bucket, where they have sharp utensils handy. Better Macy and his shadow teammates punch the air harmlessly, another audition to shill old Toyotas…

 

Look Sharp, Feel Sharp, Be… Blunt

 

I’m at a loss for why this visit to the Chance Macy family home is dragging out as long as it is.  I mean, we even get a beat panel for Pop-pop to bobble his head. Is it to finally fill in the blanks as to the whereabouts of Chance’s parents?

Previously I’d speculated that they went the way of Silent John Pascoe’s folks. Perhaps they met a more sinister fate. Have they been banished to the great unknown with the Thorp children? Or was it simply a Tonight Show gag gone horribly wrong?

Speaking of which, how are you fixed for blades, Chance?

The Air In the Front Yard Is Cooler Than the Air Coming Out of You*

Back from a brief hiatus and feeling a bit refreshed. Know what else would be refreshing? A story arc about a player who just wants to get better and actually gets better through coaching. A kid whose parents are simply supportive of his or her interests and not trying to live vicariously through them or project their own shortcomings onto them.

But that would be asking too much, wouldn’t it? Far easier to trot out the cardboard villain adult who puts it where it doesn’t belong to try to advance their kid’s causes for their own selfish motives. Here busybody Ballard feels that need to for reasons known only to him. Where does he plan to use his observation about Chance Macy? As evidence that the kid is too gassed/hurt to come out to party** and, as such, deserves to be benched in favor of Charlie? Or that his not coming out to party is evidence that he’s not a team player and, as such, deserves to be benched in favor of Charlie?

Either way, it’ll be another strike against Ballard, whose big swing and a miss on Tiki Jansen makes this strike two.

*Alternate title: Chet Ballard, Backdoor Man. Is that an actual transom above the Schuring’s back door?

**Pretty confident of the Schurings to plan a postgame victory party at their house, innit?

Chet

I love these green suits on Ed Baxendale and Chet Ballard. Yes, we finally know Ballard’s first name. He’s Chet Ballard of Ballard Insurance and lime green suits are his thing.

Chet’s looking for an easy way out of this pickle. Since he’s apparently chummy with Ed (they share a haberdasher) he’s thinking maybe Ed can put a muzzle on his daughter. Geez, give it up Chet. You got caught doing your job poorly and now you’re just digging a deeper hole. Plus, we know from one of the other boring digressions of this summer plot that Ed has little sway over Hadley. (I’m still not sure what Ed is doing here.)

Chet’s suit color reminded me of the Plymouth Duster on the cover of The Cars Heartbeat City Album:

I just learned that this piece of art is called Art-O-Matic Loop Di Loop and it was created in 1972 by Peter Phillips.

 

 

 

The Dumbness Of It All

Are we STILL in this powwow caterwauling about our personal reasons why we didn’t make scrimmage which I think Mimi scheduled about the time they elected the last Pope? Do we really honestly have to keep harping on our petty differences and keep wasting 3 panels per day and watch several Sysiphus’s keep pushing that boulder up the hill, only to find out we have 3 MORE panels to push the boulder on and then learn we could be thrown 3 panels at a time and the damn rock is still in the gym at the half court line? Thank God, Mimi didn’t schedule the end of the year Sports Banquet. Did Sisyphus ever try to push a humongous MVP trophy up a hill?

Gang, before I go any further, a HUGE apology to y’all because I have been trying like Hell all day to get this published and my phone kept erasing the work. As you can see, it took a while to get to where I could publish anything. I wouldn’t blame if you don’t want to read any further but if you do, I will ’til my dying days try to get this damn problem fixed. It is no fun having Eureka! moments, only to watch the phone wipe them away (fortunately I wrote it all down, something good comedians do, as my dad has taught       me) . Thank you for your patience. Your readership in a over a year of publishing means the world to me.

Isn’t Nancy beating a dead Mr. Horse in the ground????????

“Nope, she’s running the ticker tape out into center field. I’ll have to use the vacuum. I don’t think I like getting the extension cord and plugging it into the outlet in the scoreboard. I don’t like it one bit.”

OK, OK, Nancy, Diff’rent Strokes for Diff’rent Folks. We gotta live together. P2 is a good embodiment of that. I’ve listened to the same Sly & The Family Stone album you have. Now will you turn off your Close ‘n’ Play and Puh-LEEEASSSSEEEE get your ass out on the field and play ball???????????

By gum, we’re still in the Milford Mall after having danced to “All Over the World”. Are we waiting for an encore?????? No, Nancy, I don’t think Guy Lombardo and his Orchestra are going to appear to play the same song, I’m doubtin’ he has the same technology as Jeff Lynne, ditto, Lawrence Welk. Mitch Miller? And those acoustics that sounded like they were singing straight from the commode? Fuhgetaboutit.

I just mentioned Jacqueline Susann and her band of Merry Valley of the Dolls in a tongue-in-cheek manner, thinking,well, it IS a sports strip, Major League Baseball just started the season, and there was action at the beginning of the arc.

But Susann can go to Midas and read through several articles in National Geographic (“Milford at a Crossroads.”) in the waiting room  before all her calipers and brake pads are fixed and still have time to spare, maybe go to the Milford Majestic to catch “Mary Poppins for the Saturday Matinee (all seats, $4.00, free unbuttered popcorn) , before Valley of the Dolls concludes the Mini-Series. God, hope there’s not a sequel. And she might have just enough time to do a guest appearance on Holly wood Squares, assuming her agent gives the green light.

Linda and Nancy will surely kiss and make up and Linda will make the final cut for the Olympic Volleyball team and Nancy will have polished her act before performing Synchronized Kung Fu at Carnegie Hall (“Everybody was Kung Fu fighting HAAAAA!!!!!!!…”) .

EVERYBODY ALL AROUND THE WORLLLDDDDDD

LET ME TELL YOU WHAT I JUST HEARD—

“GIL!!!!!!!!!! Get those teenagers away from the pool and tell them to leave!!!!!!!!! And get your ass in bed!!!!!!!!!!”

“Honnneeeeeyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!! The doctor said this is good physical therapy on  my back.”

As we continue our tour of the Milford Museum of Fine Arts, we approach a painting recovered out of the property across the street from The Bucket, a lost entry from Picasso called “Diana Ross-One Day, We’ll Be Together”. No truer words could be uttered.  She simply never mentioned that she was forced to use Elmer’s Glue to prove her point.

Now the challenge is to figure out the rest of the anatomy and if you can match limbs to torso, apply at your nearest med school. They need you.

“…Catwoman at the rodeo with The Joker on a double date with The Riddler and Totie Fields??????”

“Gil, just because SHE got 30,000 hits, doesn’t mean YOU’D get the same result…”

All righty then, if you’re through playing Jenga, your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to figure out how Nancy rolls gutter balls publishing articles about Batgirl’s sex life. I’m sure it draws some interest but 30,000????? If there was an episode  about The Joker dumping alum in Batman’s Bucket Full o’ Cheerios while Robin is chowing down on a Bucket Sub, designed to give Batman the runs and Erectile Dysfunction so bad you’d  no longer see that bulge you used to see when Adam West donned the costume and there’d be no hope of little Batmans running around the Bat Cave, sporting bulges of their own, the episode would score big on the Nielsen ratings, I’m sure, but nowhere NEAR “Who Shot J.R.?” proportions. Nancy, it’d be in your best interests to adjust the numbers a tad.

So I don’t look like a wet blanket and rain on Nancy’s parade, so Batgirl calls the Green Lantern for a weekend retreat and because she’s lonely and she just has had a thing for phallic symbols painted green so she’s gotta have that Green Thang when they hit Mudlark Lake Resort. Sure, it makes a unique romance novel storyline but doubt any President of the United States really has any interest. Nope, don’t think Eisenhower would take the bait, much less use his influence to get 30,000 other people to read it.

Wonder Woman saving the Milford Gymnasium from Lex Luthor’s Gigantic X-Ray Machine is catchy but 30,000 sitting on the edge of their seats wondering if they’ll have open gym tomorrow is inflating the figures somewhat. You might squeeze another 5,000 if that same ray gun is aimed at The Bucket (“I’ll have the Bucket 3-Bean Salad and Apple Fries—GET DOWN!!!!!!!! LUTHOR’S POINTING HIS GUN RIGHT AT YOUR BUCKET PEACH COBBLER!!!!!!!!!!!”) but let’s not confuse Nancy’s “Let Me Roll Female Superheroes to You” with “Great Expectations”. One’s a classic and I’ll let you do the math on that one.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J.: ‘I Didn’t Use No Gloves This Time!!!!!!!!! Me And Batgirl Are Completely On The Level!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

STOP!!!!!!!!!!!! IN THE NAME OF LOVEEEEEE

BEFORE YOU BREAK MY HEAR——

“Girl, is there ANY way you can get your foot offa my spinal column???????? Hard to turn to the right at the bridge of the song.”

Kevin Wright of Louisville, Kentucky, you do a GREAT job of taking care of the customer at the Pizza Hut in St. Matthews, Kentucky. Your enthusiasm for your job is contagious and the Cookie Pizza that was made the other day was DELICIOUS. You hve over come a lot and it shows in the pizza you make. Giving up is not in your vocabulary. Gang, if you go to Kevin at The Hut, give him some love and respect, he’s earned plenty of both.

With “Fun, Fun, Fun” by The Beach Boys in the background

“Great balls o’ fire, we’re havin’ a great time down here at The Bucket!!!!!!!! Wish you were here.

Hi, this is Mr. Absentee Landowner, here to stop bad publicity in its tracks. Like bad plotlines, they put a damper on your business. Nobody buys Bucket Banana Splits when there’s no girls basketball as was the case this year. Had to send 2 tons of Chiquita to the Milford Recycling Center. Believe me, we’ve had more Bucket Slurpees dumped on our image and it’s time to answer the charges that Milford Beverage Warehouse has been leveling at us.

The Warehouse claims our last Zoning Commission meeting was cancelled because our case was hopeless. Allow me to set the record straight. One of the members of the Zoning Commission lost a grandmother when she put the car in reverse and got the surprise of her life. He had to attend the funeral. Out of respect, we sent a bouquet of daffodils that we ordered from Milford Floral to express our condolences. The meeting has been rescheduled a week from this coming Tuesday.  And our lawyers will be there, not down at The Warehouse buying Lance’s Sour Cream Crackers. Land o’ Goshen, the shit The Warehouse piles on.

And The Warehouse will have you believe that  our lawyer, Nick Vinicello, got concrete shoes fitted on from Payless Shoe Stores and dumped into Milford Reservoir, due to a rival family perturbed at his representing the Gambinos. But even as I speak, he is ordering Bucket Popcorn Shrimp and Caesar’s Salad, complete with 2 packets of Bucket Italian Dressing. The Bucket even let him wear his bullet-proof vest. He is confident we will get our license even if the whole damn Zoning Commission loses members of their families, explicable or inexplicable. Sometimes you can’t help it if a Milford businessman was a cousin of Jimmy Hoffa. I’ll bet an order of Bucket Rattlesnake Fries someone at The Warehouse was kin to Al Capone.

Now the good news. We are offering something unique. Right now through April, The Bucket is offering Children’s Drinks as a way of expressing our thanks for sticking with us while fighting The Dark Side. Darth Vader can fight this all he wants, but if The Force wants The Bucket to serve Buds and PBR right next to Bucket Grilled Chicken and Scallops Combo, The Empire can bomb The Bucket all it wants but Han Solo returned in the movie and will return to file an appeal should our initial efforts to serve The Good Life next to a Bucket Oreo Blizzard fall through The Galaxy.

And the kids are gonna love Creme de Menthe sprayed into their favorite drinks, from Coca-Cola to Choc-Ola to Hawaiian Punch. My personal favorite, Grape Kool-aid, has more zing with Peach Creme de Menthe squirted in the cup.

And don’t worry, we’ve arranged with the Milford Police not to make kids take a Breathylyzer test nor walk 10 feet in a straight line. As long as they’re not behind the wheel and they’re secure in the child’s seat, the Milford Police will call it even. You wouldn’t let your kids drive your Chevy Malibu when they’re sober. Why take a chance after a couple of brewskies? Buckle ’em up and forget it. Just wipe their mouths should they spit up all over the stereo speakers.

At The Bucket, we gotcha covered. We can cut into The Warehouse share of the market while still continuing to fatten Archie and Jughead on Bucket Burgers. Pop’s Choklit Shoppe will remain an institution even if they pull Moose over for a DUI. We can overcome the technical stuff. Come see how today.

We will always serve Milford no matter what affadavits The Waehouse tries to file.”

Gang, comment away. Thank you for your patience. May God truly bless you.

BABY, BABY, WHERE DID OUR LOVE GO

“Girl, it’s goin’ straight down your throat if you flash your butt in my corneas one more time.”