Too Fucken Delicious

Subject: are you still being silly

Et Vous? Things are working out quite well , the Freedom of information aspect is starting to filter in , it read like a horror story . My phyc will have a field day . 

If I were you I would sell the "diamonds" and redress the "Box" with Toad skin. That's just me.

Are you tying to tell me that, nor even your Mother left you her Diamonds? Mine is leaving me with $35000 worth. I don't need to wax lyrical about ex-husbands , I was sensible and never really had one.

I do hope that you , like so many others , have not made "The Universe" your New Age Church in the sky , which provides for you as a supreme power would.

You are just getting all misty , like all Australians , about rusty iron.

I am happy for you that you have retired , good for you luv . I do hope that your accountant has given you the green light to Gayly indulge in a facelift and lipo-suction. One can't be seen as retiring old AND looking it. You have a young husband , that's just life luv.

Use the cash or lose it all, so to speak.

Perhaps I will never see Dante again , but she is already doing it. Had her stroke being done in the sling , apparently , no wonder she is a friend of yours.

Bye for now Liz , I am actually quite happy myself . It's the way to go.

Antony





(David) OMG! It is too too delicious!, said Christian. I mean I could not write this stuff.

Darling, prepare yourself for the single funniest piece of news you have ever heard

What ? asked David

and I quote… she had her stroke "being done" in a sling, said Christian.


David called, we cackled like witches.



Subject: are you still being silly

Oh dear Lord, I spat my coffee across the coffee table like the United Nations fountain. I couldn’t write this stuff, darling. Poor bitch! I’m going to hell, for sure. But funny. The mental picture is just too delicious. There’s Dante giving it all boof and doof, upstairs at a sex on prem venue, the crystal pipe inserted in him like a tracheotomy, sucking it down like an industrial vacuum, slobbering every last drop. “Ah! Harder! Give it to me!…” then the eyes roll back in her head and she starts to dribble like a 1 year old. Oh, darling… Did she require an Oxford Street Taxi to get her sad old quivering carcass out of there? The picture I have in my head needs to be seen to be believed. Welcome to my fucken nightmare!

New Age Church, dohl? Any church, New Age, Old Age, Iron Age, would self immolate if I set foot inside, and I’d cackle and dance the atheist jig, maybe I’d even sacrifice a pig, just for the hell of it, cut off its tits and suck the still lactating beast right down, as I watched the fools burn. Screaming as the white hot flames licked at their fair skin. The only supreme power on this planet is my current husbands love, anything else is bogus, or plain nonsense. Fairytales, said with the conviction of retarded children.

One day I must do the old FOI thingy myself to see what the Feds have on Christian Fletcher Bank Robber. I was a suspect once. Apparently, I’ve got a file, Interpol photos and all. Apparently, I am considered an international criminal, in some circles.

My mother left me property, honey.

Facelifts? Young Husbands? Darl, I’ve lost 10 kilos, and I’m exercising every day, except when it is inclement, of course. My young husband will have to be having surgery himself just to keep up with me. Good thing he is divine.

Happiness is the new black, darling.

Gloria Wandrous