Ya AIn't Gonna Believe It

I've been around a while. My birthday is coming up in a few days, and I'll be ninety-fuckin-two. I can't even believe it, to be quite frank with ya. Just don't seem possible. Anyway, not that who I'm going to talk about is this old, but this lady's one of the few people I've heard of that's on the television. I used to watch her and that sexy young man with a mustache every Friday on show called 20/20. I don't even know if it's on anymore. I don't know how they expect many people to watch it here in Prairie Springs anymore. This town's coming to life and most people find something better to do than sit around and watch the boob tube. 

Today, I was sitting around here twiddlin' my thumbs when, low and behold, the phone rang here at the cafe. Maxine yelled, "Winnie! Come quick!" I jumped out of my seat where I was restin' for a few and ran to the phone. I was certain someone had done died on me. But no. It was L.R. Williamson, and he wasn't nearly as excited as he should've been, but the man who edited the book about our town, of which I am the star, lives in New York and he gave the book to Barbara Walters. Imagine that! Barbara Walters is going to read all about me. Of course, to get to me, she has to read about all the other loons in this town, but who gives a fuck.

My arthritis has been right bad lately. I ain't been in much of a mood to be typing away on this computer machine. I wouldn't have written today, but I downed some extra gin and raisins this evening cause I knew I would want to share the news.

Ya'll have a good night...and remember, you ain't gotta be asleep to dream.

Love ya.

Winnie C.