Lifestyles & Polish
Up until our 13-year-old daughter went to the beach with extended family and left my wife and me behind to fret about shark attacks, sunburn and teenage boys, I had, over the course of my life, sent no more than a dozen text messages.
I spend a huge chunk of my existence at a keyboard trying to put events in some sort of semi-meaningful perspective and find little reason to poke away with uncoordinated thumbs at the tiny pad on my prehistoric (three-year-old) cell phone. I fear I will text my wife about picking up "milk," accidentally type "milf" and end up on the losing end of a divorce settlement. She gets the guitars, the TVs and Granddad's pistol and I get a set of napkin rings, an alimony payment and the chair in the basement that smells like bad cheese.
ADVERTISEMENT
July 2, 2009
June 29, 2009
June 26, 2009
June 25, 2009
June 24, 2009
June 23, 2009
June 22, 2009
June 20, 2009
June 16, 2009
June 12, 2009
June 10, 2009
June 9, 2009
June 5, 2009
June 3, 2009
Newer articles | Older articles
HickoryRecord.com | Member Agreement and Privacy Statement | Work With Us