I have a Sharpie. I love Sharpies. You know what they say on them? Not for letter writing. That sucks. Now I have to communicate with my dad using numbers.
I had a bag of Fritos, they were Texas grilled Fritos. These Fritos had grill marks on them. They remind me of summer, when we used to fire up the barbeque and throw down some Fritos. I can still see my dad with the apron on. Better flip that Frito, dad, you know how I like it.
I wrote a letter to my Dad - I wrote, "I really enjoy being here," but I accidentally wrote rarely instead of really. But I still wanted to use it, so I wrote, "I rarely drive steamboats, Dad - there's a lot of stuff you don't know about me. Quit trying to act like I'm a steamboat operator." This letter took a harsh turn right away.
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