I'm no Irma Bombeck, but...

No, I'm no Irma Bombeck.  If I were, I'd be dead.  I'm not an impositer either, I'm just me.  I am a writer, and I'm published.  However what I've been paid could be hidden under the matress in a rather small envelope, and an anorectic hypochondriac wouldn't be able to feel it, forget the princess.  If you don't know what I mean by that, you haven't read enough fairy-tales.

In this blog I will write about common ordinary stuff.  Likes - yes, problems - yeah, gripes - you bet, and there may be a few pointing fingers at ordinary people, doing ordinary things and wishing they would have better sense than to do them.  But hey, I'm an old fashioned Southern girl, and I don't appologize for it.  I'm also a died in the wool Texan, and I won't appologize for that either.

My next post is gonna be about 'Old Men Wearing Hats'.  All you truck-drivin, cowboys wearin' gimmie caps might want to read it.  You gals riddin' with 'em might want to read it too, along with you young ladies driving red cars.  'Cause I tell the truth.  If you don't believe me just take a look and watch their driving.  Hope to see you tomorrow.

Johnie