In lieu of actual content, I'm posting blackmail material for future reference. Whether it's against myself and that lovely circa 1970 bathroom, or Sweet Daughter for when she starts dating, I'm not sure. What I do know is that after a long morning of playing outside in the dirt, I threw her in the shower to wash off the grime. I went and got lunch started, and when I went back upstairs, I found she had plugged up the drain on the tub, was playing in the resulting bathwater, and was singing the same song, over and over at the top of her lungs, sounding like a rooster with the croup as the result of a head cold. I snuck in and caught this.
'You know in the bell curve of bad-assness you are on the far edge. Maybe not as far as female helicopter door gunners but you are closer to her that to the soccer moms...' - someone who wishes to remain anonymous