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If he opens it, it will measure, end to end, 10 or 11 inches. Well, it is the knife, but it’s the look on his face that scares me. Had I been an artist, I could have carried the front seat of the car the boy was driving wherever I went on Indiana University’s campus to protest his assault like Emma Sulkowicz carrying her mattress around Columbia University in the greatest art show of 2014, but I didn’t think of it. My ex-wife just walked in.” My false eyelashes spring open like parasols. Hell, I am thrilled I escape before he expels his ink. Logan year after year, becoming tall and womanly, receiving letters from boys with swak written on the backs of the envelopes, going on weeklong canoe trips, and completing my counselor-in-training program. Never once did I speak to him or look at him again, but my brain does not avoid him. TV show for the cable station America’s Talking, a precursor to MSNBC launched by Roger Ailes (who, by the way, is No. Early one evening, as I am about to go out Bergdorf’s revolving door on 58th Street, and one of New York’s most famous men comes in the revolving door, or it could have been a regular door at that time, I can’t recall, and he says: “Hey, you’re that advice lady! 20 on the Most Hideous Men of My Life List: “Hey, you’re that real-estate tycoon! We’ve met once before, and perhaps it is the dusky light but he looks prettier than ever. And the other odd thing is that a dressing-room door was open.
At the time, I own two Girl Scout knives, a Girl Scout knife-safety certificate, and my own personal hatchet, and the neighbor kids believe I have reached a height of felicity rarely attained on Illsley Place, our street, because of my winning 30 rounds of mumblety-peg, a game where we throw pocketknives at each other’s bare feet. It’s a jackknife, a knife with a folding blade, dark brownish-gray, made out of some kind of horn, about five or six inches. I can smell his excitement; it’s like electrified butter, and I zero in on the fact that he must use two hands to open the knife. The girl says, “I’ll bet a boy tried something with you,” and I say, “Yeah,” and that is the last word I utter about the attack until now. 13 on the Most Hideous Men of My Life List rises to greet me and says, “They canceled.” “Oh dear,” I reply. “Sit down.” He orders drinks, an extra glass of ice, tells me in detail about the new suit he is wearing, and then says, surprised, “Oh damn! Across the room, my boss’s ex-wife glances at us and puts her two very, very red open lips on her chap’s cheek and — well, there is no verb available — squishes her lips up and down and sorta rolls them around his face like she is the press-and-steam girl at a dry cleaner. — I am not certain that even if I pull off one of his arms it won’t crawl after me and attack me in my hotel bed. Logan, near Fort Wayne, Indiana, on the shore of Dewart Lake. memories of time spent at this camp may well be sweeping over you right now.” As a Scout, I returned to Camp Ella J. His admirers can’t get enough of hearing that he’s rich enough, lusty enough, and powerful enough to be sued by and to pay off every splashy porn star or Playmate who “comes forward,” so I can’t imagine how ecstatic the poor saps will be to hear their favorite Walking Phallus got it on with an old lady in the world’s most prestigious department store. All I can say is I did not, in this fleeting episode, see an attendant.
And to a coroner's diagnosis of cardiac arrhythmia, which can't be determined in a dead body.
And to the rumors of Presley sweating in his casket, proof that the figure was made of wax.
And to the rumor that nobody ever cashed out his life-insurance policy.
Arthur and Evelyn were best friends with my parents, Tom and Betty. As the parents drank cocktails in our big yard with the scent of the blooming wads of cash infusing every inch of Indiana just after WWII, the kids played up on the hill beside the schoolhouse. Our families had gone on a camping trip to Pokagon State Park, and I learned that an object could be shoved up the place where I tinkled. It is his uncles, his father, his grandfather who belong on such a list. As it turns out, a Hideous Man marks practically every stage of my life. I try to push him off with my one free hand — for some reason, I keep holding my purse with the other — and I finally get a knee up high enough to push him out and off and I turn, open the door, and run out of the dressing room.
Example: Let's head up to Ontario this weekend to check out some s2. An unfinished cigarette that is purposely extinguished so it can be saved and re-lit later on. Example: You got some schmooda on your pants there... To breathe through the nose so deeply that everyone within a mile radius can hear it. A derogatory term used by Formula One fans to describe bandwagon Ferrari Fans.