It’s Sunday again, so I am off to play an angel of beauty and give people hope.
Some days you just have to strut your stuff and let them all stare. It’s their jealousy not my vanity.
Mommy, will I always be bald like that funny looking man with the camera. I hope not!!
Feathers, hair, you know what I mean and what you mean to me. And how beautiful our children will be.
You need patience. Wait ten minutes and I’ll give you a different look.
My resume? Guitarist for several heavy metal bnds, rather obviously.
I know you’re growing up, but you’ll always be my baby. So sweetie listen . . .
I hope the rest of the Choir shows up for the services this morning.
I don’t know, Madge, they say this town gets really wild on Saturday night. You in?
What are you lookin’ at, huh. Seriously . . .