Now, about book. A few years ago, when Trish was just starting out, she wrote a romance novel called “Send Me No Flowers.” She even had to use her maiden name, Trish Graves, on book’s cover because of some kind of contractual thing regarding her name with another publisher. Anyway, Trish starts writing this book, and lead male character happens to be a South Carolina sheriff who’s honest, good looking, and who has women falling all over him. She named this character Rob Townsend. And when Trish considered all of his qualities, she felt that there was only one true role model for Rob, only one living person out there who could fully capture his essence, and that was moi. Me. So book got written, and you can get on internet and probably find a copy out there somewhere if you look really, really hard. And if y’all still don’t want to believe me, just take a gander at dedication to book after you get your hands on one. Read it closely. Ahem. Case closed.

Y’all might wonder why I’m finally “outing” myself as male lead of a romance novel after this much time. Well, I’m doing it cause Trish has been a little under weather here lately, and sometimes I think you need to acknowledge dear friends who’ve been kind to you. And in this case one who’s always been kind to me. Odds are that she’ll probably get a look at this article, and I sincerely hope that she realizes just how special she is, and why I’ll always think so fondly of her. She’s a great writer, and an even classier person. I could go on and write even more about her, but I‘m scheduled for some plastic surgery in just a couple of days, so I’ve gotta start packing - after all, one never knows when they might meet editor of Playgirl Magazine somewhere out there in literary world...

house.

- I get to shop at stores with improperly spelled titles like Sav-A-Lot, Thrif-Ti-Mart, and DisKount King. These stores offer a wide variety of out-dated, slightly damaged merchandise that Wal-Mart shoppers can only dream of.

- I get to drool at resturant commercials on TV because I know I will never be able to afford meals like that again unless a rich relative dies

- I get to wear my friend's hand-me-down clothes and shoes. This means that I rarely match and my feet ache constantly from wearing shoes that are three sizes too small.

- I get to freely engage in offical sports of National Poor People's Association: begging and borrowing.

- I get to go to bed every night with comforting thought that if I ever do meet Ms.Right I can't afford to date her.

I'll stop there because I see envy rising to dangerous levels in a few reader's eyes. These readers probably have steady jobs and nice homes or apartments. Their bills are probably caught up. They probably have an immense wardrobe with properly sized shoes. Their bank account probably never drops below $5,000. I apologize to these readers if my boasting about my impoverished condition has made them feel inferior and totally removed any self-esteem they may have had left. All I can say is that I never meant to be poor. I was just in right places at right times. Maybe one day all of you will find yourselves on Road to Rags as well. Until then you can check in with me if you want to know what it's like. I'll be guy on side of interstate off-ramp with 'Will Work For Food' sign. Pull your Mercedes right up and ask me anything. I promise I won't laugh.