I know that Marisa was kind enough to plug my Uterine Exitas earlier in the week, but I would have been truly remiss to not show you all the card that arrived in The Post from my dear mother:
What with the inscription, "For my 'Highly Decorated' son," it looks as if the overtly demure (yet devoutly Wiccan) woman who had a sleeved, Lebanese grandfather has finally come to accept her own son's obsession with sub-dermal illustration.
What with the inscription, "For my 'Highly Decorated' son," it looks as if the overtly demure (yet devoutly Wiccan) woman who had a sleeved, Lebanese grandfather has finally come to accept her own son's obsession with sub-dermal illustration.
