Come on Millie! Come on, girl. Let's go!

Come on Millie! Come on, girl. Let's go! COME ON MILLIE!! Want a goodie? Turkey?? Bye-byes??

I hated the way My father talked to my daughter. So patronizing. So, much like a dog. Grandfathers are supposed to be wise and delightful. But my dad is a real giant

decided enough was enough, and started a resistance movement. Bullroar island would soon be free once again. My daughter and I, along with the rest of the rebels, planned an attack

on the master's wine stores. It seemed, that the masters survived solely on a diet of wine and whiskey. Me and the rest of the rebels were going to blow the wine storage to bits.

We'd flood the cellars and starve those posh winos of their beloved tipple! Not only that, but I was going to be the chosen rebel militiaman that set off the explosives!

When I got there, it all changed. So many lovely beverages, I think I will take them instead of blowing them up. The problem is, I can't carry so many large racks of Brandy alone.

So I started drinking right there. Seemed a waste not to. That was the first mistake. I became so sloshed I forgot about the explosives. Obviously I survive or I wouldn't be writin

this. But I got so drunk, getting a new haircup seemed a REALLY good idea all of a sudden. It was only when the tattooed hair-stylist told me this cut was DA BOMB, that I remember

Watching the tellie and seeing a report on it. Haircups were back in style, thanks to some millennial pop star who did it on dare. Or so he bragged. I cannot stand such cretins!