September 21, 2009
I promised to post a minimum of three entries a week. As you can see, I've fallen short of my goal.
But if I said I would, then I should.
So, you know, I will.
I mean it this time.
(I know the rules - show, don't tell.)
Just came across this fabulous art show from '07. Boy, oh, boy, do I wish I could have been one of the gallery goers in attendance.
I love The Golden Girls. Truly one of the best sitcoms ever created. One of my favorite facets of the show is the fact that the ladies were so candid about sex.
I guess the writing staff was comprised of a bunch of sex-crazed psychos with a granny complex.
Sorry, Blanche. I call 'em as I see 'em. -- Rose
Seriously, though, how boring would these broads have been if their lives had revolved around hot flashes instead of hot dates? Menopause instead of men?
These ladies were lovable and libidinous, raconteurs who gathered around the kitchen table and nibbled on cheesecake, swapped sex stories, and regaled us with anecdotes about Sicily and St. Olaf.
They were gutsy and garrulous, gorgeous and glamorous.
They were, quite simply, as good as gold.
Curiouser and curiouser,