No, I haven’t impregnated anyone. Not that I couldn’t mind you, I just haven’t done so lately. Nope, the girl I’m talking about is the one that called my oldest son on the telephone today. The brazen little hussy’s name is apparently Sarah. My son is 13 years old. He has never received a phone call from a girl who wasn’t his mother or grandmother. I have never been more proud of him than I am at this moment. Good grades in school? Who cares! Musical talent? What’s that worth? Athletic accomplishments? Please! A girl called my son! What could be more impressive than that? I think I’ll raise his allowance. He doesn’t need to do work around the house! I want him to rest up so he’s fresh for the ladies. He’s going to need more money for entertaining. I’m just disappointed that I can’t give him a car yet. It’s definitely not cool making out in the back seat of the school bus. Do you think it’s too soon to give him condoms and a fake ID?
Self-proclaimed grand poobah of leisure and author of humorous suspense novels The Sneaker Tree & White Picket Prisons, the humor essay book Fifty Shades of Phil and the long running blog The Phil Factor. thephilfactor.com
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