Carmen on the Run

They're out to get me. Desperate housewives call me all hours of the day and night, inviting me to their houses when hubby is away, treating me to the movies, inviting me for lavish lunch at their house, staring at my tits, rubbing my thigh in the movies, licking their lips suggestively, bursting into tears when I explain that I can't see them - something has come up. I can't take this fucking shit anymore. I don't need any damn friends - these lonely horny bitches have got me all wrong. What, do I seem like that kind of girl? Honestly, I'm not leading anyone along.

Man, I gotta hatch an escape plan. Cub Scouts will be over in about a month. I just have to stick it out til the end of that for about 3 of these gals. I'll just keep it professional and only meet them in groups. One of my housewife admirers (the tit-starer who wants to travel around the world with me "without any men") is not in scouts but she's ok for now - I think she's under control.

I don't want to make anyone cry here, but I've had it. I must have some hallacious karma what with all the whorish mother figures and frustrated lesbians in my life. Once this school year is done I'm going all anchoress on these bitches' asses. It's me, my cello, Arabic and Anna Akhmatova. No horny whiners or idle chit-chatters need apply. I'm sorry, but that's how it has to be. I am losing my mind.

Anna Akhmatova in bed, 1924