Feeling Lucky

Haven’t you ever done something you regretted when you woke up the next morning?” Steven asked. I didn’t want to tell him how many times.

So why not a woman, too—if I was dating her?

Of course, I was much younger back then. And not exactly willing.

From The Other Side, Uncle Roscoe was still exercising his Second Amendment rights. Protecting me from my stalker? Or was his gun going to get me killed?

Some characters and situations are fictitious. Others are only too real.

Remember—a woman’s brain wasn’t fully developed until she was 27.

I sat in my brown-belted gi at the painted metal table outside of Einstein’s and Peet’s with Mr. Ho, my Kenpo Karate instructor in his black-belted gi, and my bronze, canine psychologist, wearing his/her Lacoste eyeglasses.

But I couldn’t help thinking—Who the hell eats bats? Probably nothing.

I was a small fish in a big sea of amorous deceit.

If I were a lesbian, I’d probably be one of those lipstick lesbians, which I of course had in my pocket for touch-ups later.

You’re lucky to have that face. But it doesn’t make you happy.

The gold cross around his neck lay itself upon me.

Stage Mom Mom swore she never knew what went on behind The Producer’s Green Door.

Comfort took a distant second to fashion where footwear was concerned. Unless of course, one was fleeing!