Back in the Fugawe Period of the Precambrian Era, I dared to go fishing with Corky, willSIX, and various other action figures. I actually sort of enjoyed myself. That can almost definitely be attributed to willSIX's making fun of me for joyfully freaking out over catching a turtle. (Even the Double Rainbow Guy would have been embarrassed for me.)
The fun was short-lived. At the tender age of seven, a box of Gorton's Fish Sticks (fish dicks?) caused me unspeakable gastrointestinal distress. As a result of that digestive Hiroshima, I have not been able to endure even the faintest whiff of fish. (Insert joke here.) My husband enjoys fish (thank goodness) but is not permitted to cook it while we still share a household.
Osama is sleeping with the fishes now. Personally, I couldn't think of a better resting place for him.
1 comment:
I wish Obama had taken me up on my offer to take Osama on a cross-country tour behind my 1985 F-150; we should stop pretending we're not like that, if only to remind the world who is boss. Another idea of mine was to put Osama's head on top of a flagpole, either in NYC or Arlington, but Obama passed on that one, too. Where's Jacques Cousteau (RIP) when you need him?
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