The
other weekend people I know from Wisconsin were in the city for a concert, and
some of their associated friends were along when I went out to dinner with all
of them.
One of
them was a slightly boozy (late 40s) (white) woman with long black hair, a
lower cut dress, and a zest for life.
She
ordered a dirty martini.
“Borderline filthy,” she told the waiter.
“Borderline filthy,” she told the waiter.
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