Showing posts with label swarthy men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label swarthy men. Show all posts

Monday, February 20, 2012

Banking With RODRIGO

Ingredients for this My Time: talking to bank tellers, wondering how to get money, RODRIGO!

Oh, Lovers. Your little Dag woke up this morning to a terrible thing before the appropriate hour of noon: a ringing phone. Who was it? I shuddered to answer. But eventually, meekly, I did.

Who was it, you ask? Well, Honies, it was The Bank calling to tell me that all my account(s) had been wiped out after some "system" was something called "hacked." And what did this hellion do with all this money, alimony payments (signed in blood) and credit card information? Well, Honies, he spent it all ON CHARITY called "March of Dimes" and then, and only then, bought himself a nice little gift on QVC for his good deeds.

Oh, lovers. This wreaks of my ex-lover RODRIGO.
That man was always trying to get me to help: Dagmar, send my family some money so they can eat, Dagmar, send me to cooking school, Dagmar, the world could benefit from your generosity.

Oh, really, RODRIGO? Clearly in a moment longing for Little Daggy, you decided to teach me a lesson, didn't you, RODRIGO? I can smell a scheme from that Latin sailor a mile away. (well, after we dated I could, but not during.) So someone spent thousands of dollars on March of Dimes and then bought themselves some nice little kitchen gadgets TO HELP WITH CULINARY PRACTICE, DIDN'T THEY, RODRIGO?
 Well, Honies, surely this will work out. And if it doesn't, it is only a matter of time until I receive another hefty alimony payment from my ex-husband, the fucking classy man, which I DESERVE AFTER EVERYTHING.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

My Time With Diamond Dave

Ingredients for this My Time: Google, a bottle of champers, and Valentine's Day.

You're welcome.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Guest Bloggers

Ingredients for My Time: girlfriends.

This blog has invited girlfriends, some divorced, some married with children, some married on the beach of a small Caribbean island by a Rasti and unclear if the marriage is at all legal, some alone, some with rooms dedicated to unicorns, some without any problems, and all with bottles of vodka in their past or future. Look forward to the loving advice of women who elegantly wear shoulder pads as they pass out in bed--something a model aspires to be able to make look as elegant as some of the women I know--who will share with you new ways to experience your own time as My Time. Signed your ever faithful adviser in a Gucci hat, Dagmar, from a cruise boat with a swarthy captain who I will save for another post about the importance of swarthy men in My Time.