older, younger, it doesn't matter. i don't do men.
homemade (of course) burger
when watching sex, zero men is plenty, thankyouverymuch.
today is my seventy-first birthday. fifty-five years ago today i gave myself to the man who was soon to become my first husband. less than three years later he had a massive heart attack. i am forever grateful that i was able to hold this wonderful man in my arms and comfort him until the end. i shared with him and our children some of the best years of my life, the memories of which helped me get through the worst years of my life.
rachel, it's good to be alive, n'est-ce pas?
happy, horny, fucking starving.
sorry, that's four words.
happy, horny, hungry.
for sex and drugs and rock'n'roll
when and if i get over my allergic reaction to men i'm claiming adrian for my own. until then, have at him, ladies. i've heard he has a twelve-inch tongue and breathes through his ears.
meanwhile, may i have a beaker full of beautiful bertha's bayou brew in my booth? and elyse in my lap.