Looking at my career, 3 Fs: Friday, Full moon, and the 13th. Ok so I lied, 2 Fs and a 13.
Stopped for one drink. wink wink.
Something happened that had never crossed my path before.
A lovely person asked me to meet him on the terrace.
Isn’t there a movie like that?
On the terrace?
Oh who cares?
He was playing charades.
Connect with the eyes.
Put his hand up to his lips.
Blew imaginary smoke.
Meet me on the terrace, you axxhole.
Well, being the ultimate prissy prick that I am, I had to weigh my options.
Or don’t I?
I really don’t.
I just talk a big story.
Nothing illegal passes my lips, except, of course, for hand made vodka and garlic bread with cheese.
My true colors are showing.
I am a fraud.
I don’t do weed.
Wait a minute.
I mean….. no one asks an aging goof if she wants to pass a joint, unless they are desperate.
Desparado. Why don’t you mend your fences and plant a garden?
Ok, so, I blew it.
Tonight, at home, me and my Coors are having a party, cursing the idiot who passed the chance to light my fire, to get much higher.
And who is the idiot?
That is up to you to decide.
Just one final note; I have called my doctor, to set up an appointment for my fatal disease. It is called life. And I, for one, just want to blow it out in a blaze of glorious weed.