


I love greasy spoons. I am happiest in restaurants where the menu is laminated and where the waitress leaves you a bowl of peanuts while you decide whether you want a burger or a cheeseburger with that beer. I would rather remove my own spleen with a butter knife than eat sushi or drink wine.
I have a very vulgar, perhaps even infantile, sense of humor. My gay friends still very patiently sit through my Brokeback Mountain jokes because even after a year, few things crack me up more than gay cowboys.
And yet, and yet, these are the women I grew up on. These are the women I still admire.
But please don't tell anyone. I have a trashy image to maintain.
A friend of mine photoshopped my picture with Steve Bartmann. :-)
ReplyDelete