…except for the “with” part.
In some obscure branch of my family tree, I’m sure one of my maternal ancestors must have had – shall we say – intimate relations with Donald Duck.
Yesterday afternoon I had what can only be described as a near-aneurysm experience. I spent several minutes furiously cursing an autoteller unto the seventh upgrade for giving me the electronic finger, before I realised that I was trying to draw cash with my garage card. Talk about putting the “I” into “idiot”.
Then I went to see a movie about lesbians and I felt much better.