Same photo. I just don’t know how to make them smaller.
Tracey, girrrl, look at you, all ahead of your time, sporting that brazen, peekaboo-undies look.
But, um, shot glass with clear liquid? *tsk, tsk, tsk* We all know what’s going on here. I suppose later on, you’ll be peeing yourself and expecting someone else to clean up the mess. Filthy drunk.
hahahaha yeah, that glass is such a grown-up glass. A film noir glass.
But the tights! The tights!
Well, now that we have the full photo we can obviously see that you’re just sippin’ on your lemonade and someone is off, out of frame, playing with your ball. All you wanted to do was sip your lemonade and go back and play with your ball. But no. Someone else had to come and get it. How dare they.
“Film noir glass,” is classic, Sheila.
Yeah, it’s like Bogart is offscreen or something muttering, “These dames with their white hair and their thick tights, always cryin’. Give me your drink and wipe those tears away, doll. Life ain’t so bad after all.”
If you put Photo 1 and Photo 2 together, it’s obvious: you were a mean drunk, Tracey. Even as a kid.
oh, and: Piper update, please!
red — /“These dames with their white hair and their thick tights, always cryin’. Give me your drink and wipe those tears away, doll. Life ain’t so bad after all.â€/
hahahahahahaha!
And I grew up in Southern California, for lard’s sake, how COLD could it ever have been to warrant the wearing of THOSE tights?
(um, “for lard’s sake, Tracey”? I dunno. I typed and that’s what came out. Seriously.)
And those legs — they’re like Henry VIII legs. “Fetch me some mutton, you puny, rump-fed pignuts!”
Sal — I’m still a mean drunk.
“how COLD could it ever have been to warrant the wearing of THOSE tights?”
Maybe that’s why you are crying…you’re hot and you’re high ball glass is empty. “For lard’s sake, Barkeep! I’ll take (hic-up) another round pleasth.”
Admitting you have a problem is the first step.