Late as late can be. Still lame.
Stood-up Stephanie, one of my surrogate mothers, her kids had a soirée for her at the Sole Proprietor.
Nasty headache.
I don’t like family affairs. It’s why I don’t have any contact with my own family. I especially hate social affairs where I do not know at least 50% of the attendees. And if any of them are breath-takingly attractive young men, then it doesn’t matter how many others there I know; for me the whole thing becomes a hot-acid bath.
Continuing lame. Over and out.