How To Fool Yourself Into

Before We Make Love My Husband Takes A Pain Killer. I Blame My Mother For My Poor Sex Life. All She Told Me Was, 'the Man Goes On Top And The Woman Underneath'. For Three Years My Husband And I Slept On Bunk Beds. I'm A Double Bagger. Not Only Does My Husband Put A Bag Over My Face When We're Making Love, But He Also Puts A Bag Over His Head In Case Mine Falls Off. It's So Long Since I've Had Sex, I've Forgotten Who Ties Up Whom. My Best Birth Control Now Is To Leave The Lights On.

The Only Street I Like Is Rue Honore De Balzac, Because 'balzac' Sound So Gay, And I Love My Gays. I Might Like Parisians More If They Named Their Streets Only For Gay Icons, Like Rue Liza Minnelli Or Rue Bette Midler Or, My Favorite, Rue Mcclanahan.

What We Do Is A Calling...we Make People Happy.

Whatever You Do To Recover From A Loss, People Will Be Critical Because They Believe That The Only Way To Recover Is Their Way. And You Will Even Run Into Some People Who Should Be Run Into By Rhinos Because They Actually Don't Want To See You Get Over Your Tragedy At All; Grief Is A Spectator Sport For Them.

If You Hate Something, You Hate It, And If You Like Something Or Somebody, You Like It, But Tell The Truth. And Most Celebrities Have That Thin Veneer That They Will Not Break For You.