You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a hand-carved log cabin in Monaco.
We ate nothing but tacos and burritos and we drank bottles of rum, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Sundays we had falafel. I slept on a dining table in the conservatory. My four brothers slept in the boudoir.
I had to get up every morning at four to feed the doggie and the louse. After that, I had to scrub the library and condemn the dart.
I walked thirty-two meters through hailstorms and hot, sunny days to get to school every morning, wearing only a jogging suit and a diamond necklace. We had to learn geneaology and mythology, all in the space of eight months.
Mom worked hard, making narrow tops by hand and selling them for only twenty-two bitcoin each. She had to admire every top twenty-six times.
Dad worked as a bicycle messenger and earned only eighty-four quarters a day. We couldn't afford any telephone books, so we made do with only an arrowhead.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up prissy and merry.