I hate speaking.
I love writing. I love singing.
I hate speaking. Public speaking, that is. Can't speak to save my life. I get tongue-tied. I am the proverbial deer-in-the-headlights. Or, more like Goofy-in-the-headlights.
So why did I have to open my big mouth and tell my boss that I die a thousand deaths every time he makes me get up and do
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And, by the way, know this: If you were a man-and Damian Lewis-Firthgal would be ringing your doorbell right now.
:-)
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