Milko?

Miska and I were conversing about Sally Fletcher aka: Kate Ritchie this morgen on the 246 yo.

As always, when talking about ma Sally, I reverted back to the good old days.

The days when acid stone wash ruled Best N' Less and phenomena like BROS was the giggy-wiggy.....The days when Sally was a little nipper, running around after her Gran-dads bag pipes having her chats with Milko, her imaginary friend in the bag of pipes.

The days when Alex Papps stole my heart, the same time when Tony Danza was my ultimate dream man....(Did I mention yet he was at the convention last week....go the beer belly....)

I remember when she got all sneaky like, waited for Pippa to leave the room and cut open the bag, and cried when Milko didn't come out.......A-C-I-D-I-N-T-A-K-E-Y-O-?

So anyway, this entry is dedicated to the Sall.

The e of my eye.

The apple of my pear.

And the tripper which is embedded in my birth-rite.

Rock on little sista.