I have to admit however, it does bother me, when you tell me that I have small hands, it bothers me when you say the word cockroach, I hate you telling me I need to wear my retainer more often, and that what I eat isn't adequate.
yes, thank-you, I know that I may seem small and meek, and would probably lose in a fight, and I'm not nearly as tough as I'd hope. I know I will never be a stand-up comic. I know getting scared of growing up seems silly and I don't read the newspaper as often as I should. I know I have nothing certain and my future seems bleek.
Even after your constant reminders about how my life will blow, I still sit here in my Good-Will $5 robe, knowing that I like you, and I'm happy.