Royale With Cheese

I remember I used to be good dancer. I mean, I was special. I could do things with my lower-body that would cause a person to really stop and take notice. Well, when I was young I could do such things. Now, c'mon! I'd be lucky if I could to the "Texas Fox-Hop" with my bad hips.

I remember on Saturdays I would get up very early in the morning and go buy cheap paint from a store and then go sell it the store I was working at for a dollar more. Actually, my boss made me do that.

I remember I'd stop and get two slices of pizza and eat them at the same time. I was very skinny back then and I could do things like that and not gain weight. Now, I eat a cookie and I have an extra chin.

I remember I used to be in the "T-Birds."

I remember going to France. I went into a McDonald's over there. Do you know what they call a quarter-pounder with cheese over there? Well, I won't bore you with that story.

I remember I used to have a lot of hair. Now, I have a room in my house dedicated to all of my hairpieces. These pieces come from all over the world. I have one from the far reaches of Tasmania!  Sometimes, I like to go in there and talk to the pieces. (Calling them "wigs" is disrespectful.) Yes, it's true! Doing that creates a connection between the hair and myself. Not in the literal sense! We become one, a unit, a person again.

I remember walking out the back door of my house looking at my Lear Jet!