Gimme a Second
January 2, 2012
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Hi. I’m Marla. Gimme a Minute. I wanna talk to you and it will just take 60 seconds. Isn’t it interesting how I’m able to come up with some random thing every week for 60 seconds? And there are so many kinds of seconds. I could come up with about 60 if I had another 60 seconds. I could talk about second helpings, or the logistics of second cousins. In a political or foot race, there’s always a second place winner. There was the Second World War, which happened when, according to my kids, I was in the second grade. Which, coincidentally, is when the concept of the second shooter came into play. From there, it’s a short leap to the second amendment. It makes my head spin. Hang on, I think I’m getting my second wind.
Growing up I never accepted second hand clothes, or sloppy seconds from my girlfriends’ ex boyfriends, who are, by now, most likely, on their second marriage, at least.
As a teen, I was relegated to being a second soprano. Not that I was ever second rate. Even so, I would never second guess the choral conductor.
Being a victim of second child syndrome, I still think of myself as second to none. Did I hear a second on that motion to move on?
I could have done this entire Minute in the second person, but then it would have been all about you, and you wouldn’t want that, would you? No, not for a second. I’m Marla. Thanks for listening. See Ya.