So much to take in. Max, my ghostwriter, has graciously allowed me to erect a temporary shelter on his couch – or what he referred to as a FOO-TAHN – until I receive the advance on my memoir (no publisher yet, more info to come).
He left, holding his nose for some reason. Perhaps this is a social cue of which I am still unfamiliar? At any rate, I imagine he is at a bar somewhere, drinking between “seven and fifteen Pabst Blue Ribbons.” I was impressed. Where I come from, you must eat a great many squirrels before you earn even a single blue ribbon. Needless to say, my host must have a prodigious appetite.
It only took me about 45 minutes to master the remote control. I am now watching a national sporting event in hi-definition. This is what American humans do. When in Rome, as they say.
New goal – write Great American Novel. Sell to highest bidder.