Brow lifts and Crest strips and butt lifts, oh my!
People don’t like to sit next to me on the bus. It used to bother me. Now I consider it a blessing in disguise.
I work in an area frequented by a lot of old Russian immigrants (don’t ask) and I tell you, they could bottle whatever three prime and pungent perfumes worn by the women and market that shit as extra strength insect repellent. Jesus, comrade.
A long time ago, my daddy banged my mommy when they were but teenagers. Then my daddy hightailed it on back to the deep south where he was from, leaving me with nothing but his last name to remember him by. When I was a kid, I met some of my relatives, and even had a penpal relationship with my grandma. Time passed, she died, and I pretty much lost contact with all of them. I do know that I have, I think, two half sisters and a half brother floating around somewhere, which is kind of funky when you think about it. And with the world wide internet, finding someone, especially with an uncommon last name like I have, is not all that hard.
So I was only mildy shocked when I received a "smile" from someone named Lisamarie [my last name] via Friendster. No info in her profile, nor a picture of Elvis’s daughter/Michael Jackson’s ex there, so I didn’t have much to go by. But I do find it strangely, scarily intriguing. *cue "Twilight Zone" music*
