"i was watching Oprah yesterday and they had the parents of those kids.", my wife told me over a dinner of ill-repute (insert semi-long story involving neither of us knowing what we really wanted to eat, both being rather hungry, and one of us forgetting just how awful Popeye's is, here).
"Oh really? Wonder how much they got?" i reply half-heartedly feigning interest.
"i don't know. But i wonder why they did it?"
"Are you kidding? It's a chance to appear on Oprah and get paid a fat wad of cash for letting the audience say 'Oh how terrible!'. Who wouldn't?"
"Well, i don't know…", Anne Marie said, trying to defend the family.
"Oh sure you would. If you had a chance to go on Oprah, would you?"
"Yes."
"If it involved telling the world about how i was eaten by a group of rogue, carnivorous penguins?"
"Yep."
You have no idea how proud i am knowing that after i'm nothing more than penguin chow, my wife will have the good sense to milk that story for as much as she can, hopefully embellishing the details of how gruesome it really was.
*sniff* i've trained her well.
