Not always. I’ll still take my burger with cheese and bacon – and nothing else. Don’t let ketchup muddle up a piece of art. I like traditional pizza toppings – keep the barbecue chicken and sun-dried tomatoes on your California pie, mate. Notre Dame’s helmet. Acoustic anything.
Yet, those splashes, you know?
It’s just a dab of product in your hair. Vanilla in your waffles. (Just a capful, especially when you add a tablespoon of brown sugar.) It’s blue duct tape holding one headlight on my white Grand-Am. (That’s badass.)
There are approximately 3,436 questions in my Go Ask Daddy Google Keep file.
One question stands alone as the best quote I’ve had from my kids in quite a while. Not because it asks about the meaning of life, or for dada to sum up Jesus’ gospels, or even to explain why Pluto can be a mouse’s dog but no longer a planet.
It’s not even to ask why Clint Black is white and Barry White was black.
“Dad,” Grace asked, “can you say sh*t on your blog, or do you have to use those little star thingys?”