The Big Thaw

Dear Dobson,

I cannot believe yet another respective birthday has been and gone.  I must confess I've been thinking a lot this evening about the passing of time - a classic symptom of getting older.  Unfortunately I've reached no earth shattering conclusions, other than time seems to be accelerating a little too quickly for my liking, especially the good stuff which seems to be gone in the blink of an eye.

And please don't interpret my ruminations as sad or maudlin, if anything, what I've said above makes me value the good stuff even more.

Could I have injected more clichés into the preceding paragraphs?

I must congratulate you on your purchase of 'Orgasm' blusher, I shall pay close attention to your flush when we next meet, but don't go overboard will you?  I imagine the Aunt Sally look would probably have an adverse effect...  Luckily, and without wanting to sound like I'm bragging, I have no need for such cosmetic indulgences at the moment.  My cheeks are aglow like two enormous Belisha Beacons and my Bunny™ lies redundant in the drawer underneath my bed; just for the record, there are many other reasons I think The Man is wonderful.  The Ice Queen never stood a chance in such company.

On that note, it's time for me to retire to the boudoir where I shall slip under the covers and inhale what remnants are left of the weekend spent with him.  Defrosted...

Night Dobson.

Frankie

PS.  Happy frickin' Anniversary, this is our fiftieth post.

Blusher

Dear Frankie,

Was awake at 5am this morning. (Too much birthday cake?) So I did what anyone just into her 45th year would do (my favourite record speed by the way) - I bought a blusher online.

Clearly there are a multitude of things I need - a car that works, a hall carpet that is not threadbare, a cooker that works. Anyway. Some bird in the Guardian would exclaim 'It's the Nars blusher' whenever she bumped into a friend, so used was she to being asked what was different about her.

Apparently "it makes every woman look better, giving all skintones a sexy flush of peachy pink'.

And the name dear reader, of said blusher range? Orgasm.

Basically if you look like you have had a good seeing to, people think you look great.

Blusher = £21.

Sex = Sod all.

I'm in the wrong business.

Read that as you will.

Lub you.

Dobson x