John Burkholder

I have a story I want to share to all of the boys and girls out there in Internetland. This one deals with me...and my Mother-in-law (MIL) that I live with in Virginia. Every morning I have a set schedule to prepare for work. I have two alarm clocks to make sure I do not oversleep my 6:00 start time. I lay in bed for about 2 minutes while my eyes figure out how to open before venturing through the hallway to the shared single bathroom (this is an important part) with clean underwear and pants in hand. I close the bathroom door, turn on the fan and promptly sit down for my first morning pee. Afterwards, I turn on the shower to broil and hop in. 10 minutes later, I am back out and dried. I put on deodorant, brush my teeth, shave (if necessary), wash my face and do the hair cream thing to spike my hair slightly. I put on my pants and exit. I finish dressing in my room, pack my laptop, grab any dishes or trash and drop them in the kitchen. This day threw me off though. The trash can is in

For years I have been getting the finger. This is often a case of someone extremely pleased with my driving and passive aggressive demeanor toward the intellectually challenged. It may be a case of the very helpful teenage youth talking on her cell phone to her VERY best friend behind the counter of the restaurant I just happen to be standing in, waiting for her to look at me to take my order, and me talking at a rather high volume to make sure she can hear me over her other conversation. That is when I am told that I am number 1 in her heart. I lick the side of my cup very slowly and slowly suck on the straw in response. I feel so loved. Now, my wife is insistent that I go get the finger from someone else. This time there will not be any witty repartee, no exchange of glances, no passive aggressive glances. This time, I will have to hum to myself to calm myself from the impending and unwanted finger of a grown man with a latex glove standing behind me. I realize that now that I have p