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Foot in Mouth Disease

by Mady Eberstein

Well, I'll be. If I had a nickel for every time I went and put my foot in my mouth, I’d be a goner. They say big things come in small packages, and indeed, they pack a big punch.

So I guess what it all comes down to is that come rain or shine, I could get used to this.

Anyway, get a load of this.

All of a sudden, my hands are tied, right? I am in a real pickle. But you'd better not hold your breath, okay, because before you know it, I am back in action, baby. I don’t know what came over me, but that guy all but drove me up the wall. I thought for sure I was about to blow my top.

But let’s not beat around the bush. Essentially, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was trying to pull a fast one on me. Well, not on my watch. If it were up to me, I’d tell ‘em to take a long walk off a short pier. Kick ‘em to the curb. Tell ‘em to put that in their pipe and smoke it.

But that was that. The cat was out of the bag, but I’m still holding my horses. Like a bull in a china shop, there was an elephant in the room, and his bark was worse than his bite. Way worse. As for me, I knew I could still kill two birds with one stone. I was playing possum, and at the same time, a cat had my tongue. This guy was barking up the wrong tree. Well, I wouldn’t have it. I was about to have a cow--when pigs fly!

In the long run, it wasn't all for nothin', and if there's one thing that's for sure, it's that you win some, you lose some. No ands, ifs, or buts about it. Capisce?

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