
I’m a Different Bitch in Every Country
On Wednesday, we were sitting on a patio having dinner with friends when Nigel noticed a fluffy white dog tucked underneath an equally fluffy-haired elderly woman’s chair. “What’s that they say about dogs looking like their owners?” he whispered, nodding toward the pair. “I’m a German Shepherd,” a friend announced. “What about you guys?” Nigel shrugged. “Greyhound,” I blurted. I felt compelled to explain that I’d recently spent an entire day on the sofa. When I finally got up, there was a visible impression of my ass on the cushion. I was so horrified by the evidence that I took the sofa apart
























































