Cathy Fletcher

My trip was funny…here’s stuff he said to me:

He wanted to send me home because of my lip gloss.

Yup, this is the entire reason. It all comes down to the lip gloss.

Now about the lip gloss: it’s cheap, has a wand, and it smells like bubble gum.

Apparently I was disrespecting him by not throwing it out and letting him buy me acceptable lip gloss.

Every time the lip gloss came out (after I ate usually) it was a flagrant act of rebellion.

He told me it was “Nissim repellent”. I kid you not.

I told him I’ll throw out the lip gloss when it’s finished.

He’d actually sit downwind from me because of the lip gloss.

Ever tried to use olive oil in place of lip gloss? It doesn’t work.

The lip gloss was a symbol of a disobedient North American woman.

A spoiled brat with lip gloss.

Would I be willing to give up the lip gloss for his pleasure? Not really.

Not until it was gone. I paid five bucks for this thing, ya know.

The lip gloss was a point of contention, the lip gloss was the cause of being kicked out of Israel.

From the first encounter with the lip gloss the struggle was on. “That’s it. She’s going back.”

It cost him $500 to send me back early with my lip gloss.

Now, the thing that’s got this man hooked is my voice.

About the voice: once a year or less I might yell. And here’s the deal with my voice–it is so soft and feminine that even if I yell I sound “cute”. Therefore no one takes me seriously, even if I happen to transcend the moment and say something intelligent.

So I yelled at him on the telephone after I returned because, well, I was so mad. Call me, don’t call me, email me, don’t email me. Apparently no matter what I do I turn him on. And for some reason that makes him feel out of control.

Would the man just make up his mind? Right in the middle of this humour post he called me and says he can’t get me off his mind and would it be alright if he sent me periodic money to buy clothes? And did I say “no”? No.

So, now I’m on a retainer.

I’m smelly. Deal with it.

Okay the hated lip gloss is done and in the garbage now. Oy vey.

*note: we’re off again, like pulling the last petal off a daisy.