Sing me a serenade and wash away the blood that stains each and every part of me.

I can still taste:

~ blood.

~ a cheap pinot grigio and a cheap shiraz.

~ rich chocolate

~ and someone else's lip gloss.

I'm fond of my friends.

My teeth are to be stolen from me on Wednesday. I am not pleased. As a friend's father once said, "Now the only way you'll ever get wise is through years of painful life experiences." (Some big bad wolf I am! Giving away my teeth to any nurse who asks! It's shameful, really. Someone please talk some sense into me, and perhaps hide me away in a cave or a nice bit of France until the threat has passed?)