Well, the cat’s out the bag now, isn’t it?
Oh, I know that I’ve been trying to hide it all this time, but now — thank goodness — You know. And I must say, it’s great to finally be able to come out about it. Oh, not that kind of coming out. I’m talking about coming out All About You.
You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Of course, You do. Because no matter how clumsily I may word things, You understand that what I really mean is: You. You. You.
When I write about my mother, I’m really talking about You.
When I talk about dead babies in jars (Thank you,
When I talk about movies, TV, art, politics, farts I’m not really talking about that either, I’m really talking about You.
And because You understand that every comment and post on EOB is about, well, You, it seems almost embarrassing that I have to admit this.