I’m going out tonight to the GAY bar and drink gallons of liquor and vivaciously flirt around the room with everyone's husbands. Spit caustic conversations at tables with a darting tongue like a pit viper. Puff on a cheroot and exhale smoke that curls up my face framing my evil. Crack bottles over the bar then wave my hand in dramatic gestures and put it on my hip indignantly at precisely the right moment for emphasis and ooze drama and glamour and slap people down.
This is how it’s done ladies. These young twinky queens just don’t have my touch. Don’t make me steal your boyfriend.