Friday, September 16, 2011
Messin' wit' french fried potaters
Mmmmgh. I wuz readin' th' newspaper th' oth'r day. Well, I wuz sorta readin' it. I know some o' th' words. Some o' them words I didn't know.
Anyways, it wuz sayin' that that Obamer lady has gone an' made some rest'rants stop sellin' french fried potaters. She ought not t' do that.
I likes french fried potaters. 'Course it's only rest'rants like yer Olive Garden and yer Red Lobster that's stoppin' th' french fried potaters. That's what th' Atlanta paper says, anyway.
It sez that th' kids can get french fried potaters if their momma or their daddy sez they can. I thought it wuz a joke when I heard about it. But it's not like any other joke I heard. Like the one about them two fellers standin' on th' bridge, goin' to th' bathroom. Mmmgh. That'n I got. Didn't get the joke about the food, though. So I'm thinkin' it's not a joke.
Besides, folks treat me like a kid sometimes, an' I'm thinkin' that th' waitress ladies won't let me get 'em without my momma or my daddy sayin' it's okay. My momma's dead. I kilt her. My daddy's still livin' but I don't cotton to him to much. So I'm on my own ever since I got out th' nervous hospital.
Anyways, if'n the Olive Lobster stores don't let me get french fried potaters, I'm like to get right upset about it. I don't think they'd care much for me if'n that happened.