And it shows a flaw in one's self respect.
Good muscles, though. Not scrawny. So probably on drugs.
On a warm evening, there's nothing like the smell of fresh asfalt, car exhaust, and sweaty man back to make one feel riotously alive.
Not me, of course. I'm more refined. But I'd smoke the cigarettes, or cary a pack on me at all times. As a reflection of my bad boy self-image.
This cigarette was inspired by the movie Valley Of The Dolls, which entirely unwillingly I've now seen nearly ten times -- my apartment mate keeps playing it, she's backslid something fierce, it's an addiction, I thought she was over that garbage -- as well as the bars where some of my friends would hang out before Covid 19. Two of which had smoking patios out back.
With ashtrays. And gay banter.
Sometimes I wish she was still hanging out with Wheelie Boy. I get to hear about her job and watch Valley Of The Dolls. Someone else needs to enjoy that.
If I ever start dating again, the woman in question will need to be warned about the apartment mate. Which could prove interesting. She would probably get along quite well with the stuffed critters, who are on the whole very accepting.
But the turkey vulture's favourite movie is also Valley Of The Dolls.
And he's gender-ambivalent. Rather confused.
"Motherly", with no morals.
There's an education here. Free for the taking.
And a grilled cheese sandwich.
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