"Hey, you, over there!
I know about your kind. . .
You're like the Independent Network News on Channel Nine.
Everywhere that you go, no matter where you are at. . .I say, you talk about this and you talk about that!" - Run/DMC
"Hey, Mom. . ." it started as we pulled out of the driveway this morning. We had to deliver some equipment an hour and a half down the road and 7th Heaven had come along for the ride and the promise of a potential stop at "Awful House."
"Hey, Mom. . .I think I'm going to get hash browns. I love hash browns."
"That sounds fine, Sweetie."
"Hey, Mom. . .when you were a child like me, did you love hash browns?"
"Yep. I still like them occasion-"
"Hey, Mom. . .did they have 'The Flintstones' when you were a little girl?"
"Yes, they did. It was my favorite sh-"
"Hey, Mom. . .you know that guy, Barney. . .not like the dinosaur, but the one who hangs out with Fred. . ."
Let's see, 1 1/2 hours there, 1/2 hour to eat, 1 1/2 hours back equals about 210 minutes with a "Hey Mom" once every two minutes. . .105 "Hey Mom" s by my account.
As we approached our final exit, I interrupted her to sing that song to her. She stopped talking and looked at me with her big blue eyes. She took a deep breath.
"Hey, Mom. . .isn't that on Sissy's ipod?"
Forget DMC, I just want to Run!
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