You may – all 198 of you – be wondering. Or pondering. Or even indulging in a little flânerie.
No, my collective Virginia. The flânerie is not where you buy flans, any more than you would expect to do something interesting in Des Moines on a Saturday night. Now stop interrupting.
This is just quickly to say – to all my latest followers, likers and re-bloggers, to mes adultes terribles, and to my fine feathered friends –
I love that you’re here. And promise me this: Never forget how good you are to me. Because you should always keep a good deed handy for when the time comes to punish someone.
And for those of you who came here scoffing; you scrofulous, bewizened nay-sayers who saw, listened and read – with ne’er e’en an if-you-please or by-your-leave, if you will! – you, who swooped in on metaphorical blue-black wings and snacked voraciously on my coagulating lifeblood, like a brood of disgruntled Weight Watchers sucking back a discarded tray of Entenmann’s frosted donuts – and then did nothing:
Kiss goodbye to answering your front door after 5 pm, sweeties.
Vinny’s back in town…