09-30-2007, 04:49 AM
The Match Game reminds me of mashed potatos.
One of my earliest memories is sitting at the table playing with my toys and pestering my mother to feed me until she finally broke down and made me some potatos but by the time they were done, I wasn't hungry. So she flipped out and smashed them into my face.
Pretty horrifying for a five year old. As I look back now, I don't blame her much. I mean we were living in a single wide trailer in the woods and that box of instant potatos was probably the better part of her measly paycheck at that point.
So I say, good riddance Brett Somer's. Good riddance!
One of my earliest memories is sitting at the table playing with my toys and pestering my mother to feed me until she finally broke down and made me some potatos but by the time they were done, I wasn't hungry. So she flipped out and smashed them into my face.
Pretty horrifying for a five year old. As I look back now, I don't blame her much. I mean we were living in a single wide trailer in the woods and that box of instant potatos was probably the better part of her measly paycheck at that point.
So I say, good riddance Brett Somer's. Good riddance!