Stan’s wife, (about whom we don’t joke ’cause she’s one smart cookie) on examining the painting (oops, I almost wrote “masterpiece”!) cried out: “Pfffttt! I do as well as this pornographic slut in her platinum wig!”
And here is the proof: the talented Sharon did it better and with more modesty.
Hats off, cherished friend; your life-sized statue in carrara marble sits majestically in our offices at the Hotel Crillon and already hordes of fishermen from all over the world have come to lay coins at your feet, like the tourists who throw coins in fountains with florentine sculptures.
(Our banker is finally breathing normally!)
(Our banker is finally breathing normally!)
