I have a weakness for ice cream.
It’s the kryptonite to my Superman.
I’ve never met an ice cream I didn’t like, or one that didn’t like me.
One might say I’m an ice cream whisperer.
Today, working off last nights ice cream binge, I met Samuel L. Jacksons older sister.
The were made from the same cloth, only this woman was taken from the dirty side.
When I said good morning she responded with “Yeah, it’s a good m*&%$@#f*&%$n’ mornin’! The sun is up and I’m at the m*&^%$f*&^%n’ gym again. Breathin’ in & out though, so it’s pretty good!” with a smile on her face.
I guessed that in the early years in the KCMO school district m*&^%$#f*&^%n’ was taught as an adjective.
When I asked what her plans for the day were, she replied “I got a long m*&^%$#f*&^%$n’ day ahead of me. Dr.s appointment at nine where I gotta get some more prescriptions and I don’t like that sh*t. M*&^%$f*&^%rs tell me I have to take this and I have to take that. I’m like, 197 years old and I’ve made it this long without all that m*&^%$f*&^%$n’ sh*t. I’m leaving that office and headed right to the store for some ice cream!”
If I were like, 70 years older, she would be mine.