The below paragraph makes me think 2 things:
1) If my nose is going to grow long like Pinocchio’s, because there’s no chance in a caramel popcorn snow storm that I’m stepping one foot onto that boat. What makes you think I’d want to spend my Saturday morning wrenching my guts out over the side just for the fishies to eat and the boys to catch? Oh no siree. I’ll be the little dot on the sand, waving from the comfort of my beach towel and brollie! Which the fee-arn-say will no doubt have to put up before he goes out for his 4 hour trawl. Did I say trawl, I meant jol!
2) I need to start planning my OWN engagement party. Dammit man. There is just something so manic about the end of the year that we never even have time to notice what we’re doing let alone find an evening that isn’t already booked up with a family pre-Christmas dinners, office parties, or Bookclub Bash and Thrashes. It’s tough being so gosh-darn-popular.
Shit, there goes the nose again!