Canaries in the Kohl Mine
It occurred to me last night, as we prepared to call it a day, that being an entertainment director at a hotel of the sort in which we’re staying must not be many cuts above extracting the lobsters from Jayne Mansfield’s rectum (spot the reference and win valuable prizes!). At 9 a.m., the poor devil, whose 27th birthday it was, was leading an aqua aerob…
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