tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137716482024-03-13T15:15:10.993-05:00UpSyndromean epigrammatical working-momUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13771648.post-88933498206089362342018-02-12T22:21:00.001-06:002018-02-12T22:21:51.113-06:00<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Do you ever look back on your life and think “I wish I had...” I don’t think anyone’s life turns out the way they had planned. Mine sure as shit didn’t. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There’s this scene in the very first episode of Magnum P.I. where Magnum pulls up to the AF military airport at Pearl Harbor, he jumps out of the red Ferrari in his swim shorts and THEN puts on his jeans. Hell. Yes. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">As I sit here eating turkey pepperoni, drinking a rando IPA, lamenting what is and what could have been, I think my biggest regret (besides trying that Carolina reaper sauce) is that I didn’t become the female Magnum. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have the hat. There’s still time.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0