Sunday, June 24, 2007

HA!! I found the problem with my fuel gauge. There was a loose connection. Plugged the wires back together and now all is well. Except for the possible vacuum leak at the manifold which I've yet to check for. My bad.

Sooo, I'm standing in the kitchen this morning around 6:30 and my almost 15 year old son comes walking in wearing his boxers. He pours a cup of coffee, much like I would, then lifts his right leg and cuts loose the nastiest fart I've heard in days. What's up with that? The male of the species can't pass gas unless they cheek up and expose the pressure valve? Now, my youngest is asleep on the couch snoring. He's 12. I can only imagine what he'll be like in 10 years. Odd to think that in a few months, my oldest will be getting his learner's permit and my youngest will be doing his bar mitzvahs. Which reminds me, I have some planning to do. He wants this huge production however, the bank account says some sandwiches and koolaid. I'm sure we'll find a compromise. With him we almost always do.

Herman Morris for Mayor.

My MG needs a name. Fickle Bitch is already taken.

1 comment:

Diane Thornton said...

Names for the MG
Money Grubber
Money Guzzler
My other wife