My kids may not be angels, but when they screw up, I don't blame TV. I put the blame squarely where it belongs, on their mother
Envy me. That's my wife. Those are my kids and I sell womens' shoes
Don't let these slits on my wrists fool you
You know Peg, I hate it when your mother weebles down here for her little midnight snacks which last until 9 in the morning