So, you know…I really like a potato log.
tweet thisFiled under: Deep South, education, Everyday, family, food, health, humor
Is there anything, even remotely, more wonderful than a gas-station-deep-fried potato log? I don't think so. No. I. Don’t. Think. So. I am, personally, mad-dog in love with the potato log. I look upon its tasty goodness as a drowning man would a life raft. (I wrote that and then had this visual of being a drowning man and seeing a life raft and then, in that life raft I saw, like, hundreds of potato logs and my heart started beating really fast and I almost had to take half a Xanax). So, you know...I really like a potato log. It has taken a place of supreme...
"And I said, Well, excuse me, I didn't know you had a copyright on the bow tie."
Now, you may not believe this, but I really do try very hard to be nice, to be kind, to be a friend, to be polite, etc. It's just that I have a great deal of trouble sometimes in doing anything even remotely nice, or kind, or friendly, or polite, etc. And sometimes, it's not even really my fault. It isn't. It's just that I'm, every now and again, a tiny beat behind the music. I'm not even sure I hear any music, so God bless my poor little drummer. Of course, I don't hear very well, either, and I know that doesn't...
Advertise With Us
