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Lunch! Martinis! Gossip! Girls Gone Wild!
That’s Emilie on the left, me in the middle, and Cynthia on the right.
I didn’t get lost and I wasn’t even late. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD? So Emilie had the cherries in the snow martini. Cynthia had the hyno-breeze martini. I had the purple cow martini. Okay, I had two.
The waitress remembered us. “Oh, you’re the ones who had the Fruity F*ckers last time.” We’re memorable! So we discussed the Fruity F*ckers, mostly to take advantage of the opportunity to say Fruity F*ckers as many times as we could work into five minutes.
This writer gig is a tough job, but someone’s got to do it. :hehe:
Posted by Suzanne McMinn on February 18, 2005
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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