October 22, 2003
I saw Recondo 32 and his lovely wife, Georgia, today. They came back from Clinton, South Carolina this morning and the funeral they attended there. I cooked them sausage and eggs for breakfast. Recondo and I talked about dealing with the death of your father. Georgia tried to wreck my computer.
I am going to kill her one of these days over that CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! crap she does when she gets her hand on a mouse. No clue, but fast finger. At least I ADMIT that I don't know shit about computers. She won't do that.
We sat on the back porch under a bright blue sky and drank a couple of beers. Recondo told me to buy stock in the Southern Company because of the excellent dividends it pays. Georgia told me about teaching kindergarten students to sing "La, la la... whatever." I told HER to keep her hand off my mouse for the rest of her life and to STAY AWAY from my computer. She just smiled. "Honey, you know that you WANT ME to touch your mouse," she said, that hussy woman.
She was fucking with me.
She'll find some way to break my ceiling fan from the computer. I KNOW her. She ain't real good at technology. Of course, she MIGHT be good at handling my mouse. I'll have to ask Recondo about that.
They've gone back home now. I'm going to perform intensive study on my new laptop to see if I can figure out how to operate the damn thing.
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