Well, sir, having been sliced and diced, fried, dyed and laid to the side, folded, spindled and mutilated, run over, run down and run ragged- here comes Valentine's Day. If cupid sees his shadow I don't see my heart until April fools' day. I'll be glad when this silliness is over.
Sometimes I worry, whatever will I do when my beauty fades? How will I make my living? Then I remember, I don't have any beauty. I don't do anything. You call this a living?
The simple minded always seemed pure of heart in my eyes. Then came politics.
Enjoy every biscuit, sweet girl.