One day you get an unexpected cartload of shit dumped on you, the next you get a cartload of manna and bananas. Manna tastes very sweet like bananas in honey. Which reminds me of Greek yoghurt. Nothing beats authentic Greek yoghurt with honey... It's the most erotic experience one without lactose intolerance can have. Trust me. Or not. Better than Butter TM and Better Than Bananas. Which reminds me that Anais Nin wouldn't agree with my assessment of the most erotic experience one can have. But I left out one detail. You have to play the Overture to Tristan and Isolde while you're eating the yoghurt with honey.

Ok, I got carried away. The donkey dropped the bananas and ran away with Julie Ann Shapiro's tequila. I started to hallucinate and ended up in Greece, specifically a town called Molyvos on the island of Lesvos. Where I lived many years ago (for a spell) with a very funny Australian lesbian friend who became smitten with a Greek soldier defending the country from the Turks. So she became temporarily hetero, enchanted by his aqualine nose and long fingers (and perhaps also his assertive moustache) Needless to say, the enchantment wore off.

Now I think the digression is far more interesting than the news, which turns out to be not something to get excited about. So no news, just more donkeys.

Yours in dementia,

The Frivolous Borscht-Belt Babe