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Yes.
My dress was too short.
The legs are all I have left.
So what the hell…
I’m sitting on stage…
With Larry King and Ana Garcia.
Ana says…
Larry is looking at your legs.
Then she says…
You have something in your teeth.
I’d rather Larry look at my legs
Than the thing in my teeth.
We were at a fundraiser for the Society of Professional Journalists.
Yes,
They let me in.
We were there to toast and roast the esteemed Linda Deutsch.
Linda’s covered OJ, MJ, Manson, Menendez.
Every trial you can name.
And then some.
We were told it should be a gentle roast.
Larry’s first line was…
Linda’s fucked more Jews than Bernie Madoff.
So much for gentle.
Or gentiles.
I spent last night with Bono.
Always wanted to say that.
Went to the U2 concert.
Four girls.
Two bottles of booze.
I told them I’d drive.
Because I wasn’t going to drink.
Good thing we used uber.
Concert was uber fun.
We laughed.
We cried.
We took photos of Bono’s butt.
But…
U2 makes you want to be a better person.
They sing…
One life
One blood.
And tell you two pills can stop the spread of AIDS.
The music.
The message.
The drunk Italians in the row behind us…
They were louder than Bono.
They took selfies during every song.
They spilled booze on us.
But
In the spirit of U2…
Drunk Italian’s…
I forgive you.
Have you come here for forgiveness?
Have you come to raise the dead?
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head.
Then today.
Sad news.
U2′s beloved manager died.
He was with them for 30 years.
They spoke of him last night.
Hours before he died.
This morning Bono said…
We lost a family member.
One life.
We’re not the same.
We get to carry each other.
Carry each other.
So…
You know what?
Let’s carry each other.
What the hell…
It’s really all we have left.
So, in the only pic where your genes are visible, you’re wearing jeans.
But in the pic where your skirt is allegedly “too short,” your legs aren’t/body isn’t even visible…so we’re just s’posed to take your word/opinion on that as first-line-revealed/immediately apologized-for “truth” without even being allowed to judge for ourselves?
Wow. That’s fair. Not.
No worries. I reckon you can still make it up to me at some point in the future.
Some way.
Some how.
Oh look.
I’m writing…
Like
You
Now.
Again…
How cute.
It’s like…
…
…
…
…
…
Oh.
My.
God.
Am I?
Was I?
Just f7cking kidding us just then?
Right now?
Reading…
Nothing
?
Just
Just
Just
Scrolling…
Down.
Waiting…
And waiting…
And waiting…
In suspense…
For something…
Of actual meaning…
Depth…
Power…
Importance…
To come.
Of It.
Of This.
Of Me.
For You.
To read…
Into.
And interpret.
In depth.
As much.
As often.
And as explicitly…
As you care or desire to…
Repeatedly.
As needed.
Because…
What?
They’re…
These…
Are
Just
Words
On
A
Screen…
*with…
…gapingly wide-open…
Perfect
Rhythmnically
Timed
Spaces
In
Between.
Read teleprompters much? 
Hi Dorothy! Long time no see/chat. There was actually a whole different tangent I wanted to go on with you about this, but, alas time is the one thing I’m short on these days.
*sigh*
Well, perhaps at some point in the future.
In the meantime, I’ll leave you with one unique, and completely true, revelation for your cat-like mind to ponder and ‘paw-about’ when upside-down and bored…
Thus far (39 years and counting), of all women on Earth, and with every possible way my mind and wildest dream-like imagination can conceive and configure them…which, believe me, is considerably mind-blowing if not “inconceivable” to most, you, alone, hold a singular title/accomplishment/designation that is not only impressive, but might make you the envy of every other woman (and probably quite a few men…yikes…*shudders*) on this planet.
Hmmm…
Wonder what that could possibly be.
Well, feel free to let your mind and imagination run free (hell, even in a circular-motion if that’s what works) in the meantime trying to figure out what that could possibly be.
Until next time…
…
…
…
Ok then…
I think you look amazing! You look so young!