Once a month I troll on out to the SO36, hospital where david and iggy pop used to make the scene and probably do terrible things in the bathrooms. I save my pennies to attend the gaudy glitter of their bingo night, shop hosted by two cynical transvestites. My favorite is the platinum wigged Kitty Carell, cialis with the fake and charming Holland accent. If you dare to win, you are summoned to the stage where your person, dress, and manner are subject to ridicule by the witty and poisonous ladies. Even the prizes (donated by neighboring shops, and drawn by the winners themselves) seem to mock you! A crocodile handbag goes to the mannish lesbian. A tome about American Indians is handed to the young, bouncy boobala who is waving chirpily to her boyfriend. Kitty casually disdains them all, and coos with self-love.
A girl after our own twisted and glamorous hearts!
(special note to Licketysplit when she returns from her washboard lessons: avoid the squirrel stew and the cherry kiafa. Virginny always wreaks havoc on your poor gizzard!)