I am utterly insulted by this plan concocted by some snarky witch to checkmate me with Tom from high school. Not to be mean but Tom was never any great friend of mine that I should care to be reminded of how during high school he continually emphasized about how he seems to think that every word in the English dictionary starts with F. How can I have a reasonable conversation with this clueless whiner tripping me up every time I turn around?
It has come to my ears that some plantation witch living near here, bearing the name of Candy, a misspelling in my view, lives in some alternative reality in which she can go around screaming and yelling about me of whom she obviously knows absolutely nothing. The mannings may have their good points but they are obviously not angelings as yet, needless to say.
I recently noticed on the Internet a duet, "Candy," by Iggy Pop and Kate Pierson. "Candy, Candy, Candy, I can't let you go," and so on. So that's nice. You have your pop music royalties already, but I am not so naive as to think that song ever had something to do with me. There are many persons on this planet who go by the name of Candy or Candi. The first year at SCC, there were three of us on the same dorm floor. So that proves nothing.
