If I was 2+67+7+1+15-34+35-1 years of age, I would be 92 years of age. If I was 92 years of age, I would have a 120 petabyte hard drive of things that would have bothered me throughout the years. I doubt if I would refer to this catalog of bothersome things as ‘pet peeves’ but it’s hard to tell because I’m not 92 years of age. Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t but I do know that the list would be populated by many a disdainful tale of the so-called music of Bon Jovi.
Here, in a one-off series that has no title because I’m too lazy to give it one, a 92-year-old lady tells of her biggest pet peeve and you better listen now, for in 10 years time, if her hope comes through, she’ll be dead:
I suppose the big kiss off is the ultimate own goal really- Sorry Donna, I meant to attach this to your comment.
Goal or not, it’s the way we all end up.
Well I’m going to change all that. Rather than do the dead thing, I’m going to remain here and here’s how I’m going to do it:
I’m not going to die!
Okay, I’ll make a deal here and now:
I’ll die when Justin Bieber becomes a man!
Well, Wayne Newton became a man, so anything can happen!
I never heard of this Wayne Newton before so I went to Google, the great educator. He really does look like an older Bieber!
It’s fun to have goals at any age and I guess the big kiss off can be a goal.