THE PLASTIC ANGEL
I wonder how many San Franciscans have friends or family of such sterling unawareness? Rather than parents or aunts and uncles who cannot fathom what that thing is, they probably have kinfolk who tell them NOT to bring that "thing" home for family holidays.
Or whatever passes for grown-up playdates.
"We don't want to see your 'artificial' girlfriend again this Christmas, Roger; your aunt Martha really believed she was a brilliant conversationalist last time, and wants to take her shopping at Saks this year."
Poor aunt Martha.
She's been out of it since her fifth husband.
Aunt Martha needs a sex-life to bring her back to reality again.
With a real man. Not a big butch blow-up rubber stud doll equipped with variable speed settings and a new car smell.
POLYURETHANE, LYCRA, SILICONE, LATEX
One of my relatives is a dear sweet lady, but she would not only prove quite clueless about inflatable sexuality, but probably not even notice whether or not I headed in for Winter-Solstice with a companion, flesh & blood human, insectoid, or reptilian. She cannot recall my Ex's name, but it isn't senility or lack of intelligence. Just an unsettled attention span.
She's more or less a blithering brainiac.
The ivory tower has a bowling alley.
Consequently, just in case I ever travel anywhere for the holidays where there are kinfolk, I should look for someone strong-minded, snarky, and capable of an evil-genius smile.
A woman capable of maintaining her equilibrium.
Despite unreal situations.
Actually, strong-minded, snarky, and capable of smiling evilly sounds just about ideal in any case. On second thought, let's just send them a fruitbasket, and not visit the family this year.
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