Well, technically, I could die any day. But those of you who know me know that I am not prone to hyperbole. When I went downstairs in the morning after my mom had left, I smelled something burning or something that had burned. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it but I just figured that she had burned some toast. It was not until later in the day that I found what had caused the smell: there was a burn mark across the wood trim next to the kitchen window.

Wouldn’t it be phunny iph all words that had an “f” sound actually were spelled “ph?” Some pholks would say that was phantastic. Being a Phil myselph I would have a terriphic time making phun of pholks who used the letter “f.” Aphter a phine amount oph time this pharcical phanciness would become phamiliar to everyone and once used enouph by everyone, the unusual spellings would be “fish” and “freak.” Then things like pharts and phlatulance wouldn’t be so ophensive phor some phancy phellows who are phinely rephined. This blog entry is just a philler phor to take up extra space.