It doesn’t say a lot for the rest of the collective, that they call me the “smart one”. I’m the one who usually finds the way home when we end up in an Eastern European country after a night of copious drinking of Gatorade or something very different to it. Its a lot of pressure but pressure is in my blood as is Gatorade or something very different to it. They keep me on my toes by knocking me down with gems like this:
Ten. Well, none, if there’s some tarter sauce around.
Now that’s ny type of math!
If fish could drown, the answer, of course, would be 8.
In other words, I was fooled, too.
I still think the answer is eight although I’m obviously not gonna say that out loud. Wait, wat….
You got me. This means I’m not a though-leader? Crushed.
This probably won’t help one little bit but I’m not either!