Cheryl and my mom were good friends and her two daughters and I would play Barbies together. The oldest daughter would always want to play "stripshow" with the Barbies (never did figure that one out.) They only lived five houses down from us but Cheryl would drive to our house every time she came. In all fairness, her life seemed very exhausting and we were always concerned about her health. When asked how she felt that day, she would slowly raise her limply clenched fist and snidely whine, "RICH... and ener-ge-tic," with her voice falling off before she finished the last syllable. It was like she was giving one last go at talking before she called in quits forever.
That's how I feel today, RICH... and ener-ge-tic.
03 July 2002 - 2:05 PM
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