I shouldn't yawn, it isn't polite, and I am concentrating on that, but it is easier to concentrate on that if I rest my head on the back of the chair. I start to slouch in my seat.

> Lisa's got her red shoes on, > Lisa's got her red shoes on, > She'll have them on all day long, > an' all day long she'll sing this song.

"No, Mom," says Lisa. "It isn't an insect. It means something like you're good at something. Or smart."

"Is it a little bit red," my wife asks when I tell here about it, "I once say a reddish colour that I didn't know."

I'm starting to sweat. Where are the police when you need them. Out blowing into people's windows, probably.

"I'm not American Military." I say to him. "I'm neither American nor Military. I come by my baldness honestly." I add.

Then I would get peals of laughter when I said: "It's Fermat's Little Theorem."

The mice in my house seem to figured out how to get at a hunk of inside a hard plastic click-locking container, INSIDE the FRIDGE!