My dear Pumpkins, in difficult times such as these, I feel we need to turn to one another for comfort. Do you feel the tug?
Ever since Russ spilled out onto my front page, I find myself checking the locks and bolts, alarms and heat seekers repeatedly. My safe room has a case of Veuve and some canned oysters, so I should manage for a day or two.
Do other babes out there feel creeped out lately? Perfectly normal things like parading in front of my window at night in my black corset now seem, well … wrong. (Poor Julio above the garage is threatening to move back to Columbia. He hasn’t trimmed a bush in weeks.)
Will we lose our sense of sexual play over this deviant? There won’t be anything to talk about at travel functions!
You know what’s really wacked? It dawned on me this morning that Russell pleaded guilty because he thinks it’s the honourable thing to do.
