I don’t give a fudgsickle about my age. That is a lie but I can’t do anything about it, therefore I trudge along.
I don’t give a fudgsickle about which “Cartrashian” female is naked today. You may ask how do you know about the “Cartrashian” family. I subscribe to AOL and throughout the day that site produces up to 71 stories that they think the public has interest in viewing. That list is ever fluid with items being added and deleted or rearranged. Up to 10 of those slots are devoted to the “Cartrashians” every day.
It seems the one talent these women have is to make sex tapes that are “leaked” by some person to the public. Bet me. They probably leak it themselves. Further, it seems the only other talent they have is to take their clothes off and take selfies or have someone else take the picture. Oh, they have another talent and that is producing babies with men they hardly know and to whom they are not married. Newsflash; “C females, the nation has seen you naked and the people are bored with you and all you represent.” That is not true. It seems a rather broad demographic follows them religiously. Poor choice of words. One Easter the family was pictured leaving a large cathedral after the service. I believe the building will be completely rebuilt and restored by 2025.
Thankfully the royal wedding with Harry and Meghan is over. They are shameless in their hyperbole concerning the nuptials. Enough already! They have received as much free publicity as the election of a new pope. I don’t give a fudgsickle about that.
I don’t give a fudgsickle about the age or kind of car I drive. That is evidenced by the 2004 Buick I drive with well over 100,000 miles on it. BW asked the other day, “When are you going to trade this beater in and get a decent car?” I retorted sarcastically, “The same year I trade you in for a newer model.”
She didn’t expect that. She had no response but I did note a mist in her eyes.
I don’t give a fudgsickle about whether my clothing is in style, fashionable and up-to-date. I am still wearing clothing that is up to two decades old. I am also aware that BW and her friends size me up and stifle chuckles when they see me. The truth is Rip Van Winkle and I go to the same clothing store and we are styling.
One day we were visiting our two granddaughters. Tess is 12 now and she was about half that age when this situation developed. I know I created a dreadful faux pas but I wore a shirt the second day. She looked at me, her forehead creased like corduroy, an inqisitory look playfully danced across her face and she asked, “Grampa, didn‘t you wear that shirt yesterday?” “Yes, I did,” said I trying to look remorseful. She rolled her eyes, suppressed a laugh and excused herself. I heard her guffawing as she told her sister about my fashion gaff but I don’t give a fudgesickle.
[Larry Vandeventer. Go to my two websites – Larryvandeventer.com and wjrambler1956.com – and purchase my books. I grew up North of Calvertville and graduated from Worthington High School and Indiana State. Contact me at Goosecrick@aol.com or 812-557-3342]