My old beau, Big Olaf, is going to North Carolina to visit friends he met while attending some sort of reform school in England that they are trying to pass off as a prestigious private school for the children of government workers.
These two friends somehow have a total of 9 children between them, so Olaf can look forward to eating dinner next to someone yammering on and on about a plastic car while simultaneously squeezing out a turd. And God knows what the kids will be doing.
I actually used to admire one of these guys . . .the smaller, less homicidal of the two, but I recently discovered that in one of his online posts about Olaf years ago, he said that I was married while Olaf and I carried on. I certainly was not, but now it’s out there on the “Internets” and the Google that I am an adulterous librarian. Now I have to have all of my business cards reprinted. Thanks a helluva lot!
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