My brother Greg cussed like nobody’s business when he was a kid. He could put together truly imaginative combinations of cuss words. He was the Picasso of bile, the Rembrandt of rancor, the DaVinci of profanity. The thing was, he never got caught. Greg could go from cursing me under his breath in our bedroom to being as sweet as pie when my mom walked in. It was like living with multiple personalities. Have you read the poem written by the guy with multiple personality disorder? “Roses are red, violets are blue. I’m a schizophrenic and I am too!” I kept waiting for Greg to spew split pea soup and rotate his head like the girl in The Exorcist, but it never happened. At least not while I was watching…
The Dish Soap Fix
The Dish Soap Fix
The Dish Soap Fix
My brother Greg cussed like nobody’s business when he was a kid. He could put together truly imaginative combinations of cuss words. He was the Picasso of bile, the Rembrandt of rancor, the DaVinci of profanity. The thing was, he never got caught. Greg could go from cursing me under his breath in our bedroom to being as sweet as pie when my mom walked in. It was like living with multiple personalities. Have you read the poem written by the guy with multiple personality disorder? “Roses are red, violets are blue. I’m a schizophrenic and I am too!” I kept waiting for Greg to spew split pea soup and rotate his head like the girl in The Exorcist, but it never happened. At least not while I was watching…