There’s one promise I can make you today, right now.
I will never, ever curl my eyelashes.
Especially in my Pontiac Grand-Am, as I roll down highway 4-85.
Especially on the morning commute. (This happened, with a fellow motorist. Sixty-five-plus MPH, with an eyelash curler clipped one eye, then the other. I can judge and give dirty looks, even though when I eat animal cookies while I drive, I look down to see what animal it is, out of respect – for the animal.)
Just a dad ... 