Diary Of A Blues Goddess
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Оглавление
Erica Orloff. Diary Of A Blues Goddess
ERICA ORLOFF
Diary of a Blues Goddess. Erica Orloff
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Contents
chapter. 1
chapter. 2
chapter. 3
chapter. 4
chapter. 5
chapter. 6
chapter. 7
chapter. 8
chapter. 9
chapter. 10
chapter. 11
chapter. 12
chapter. 13
chapter. 14
chapter. 15
chapter. 16
chapter. 17
chapter. 18
chapter. 19
chapter. 20
chapter. 21
chapter. 22
chapter. 23
chapter. 24
chapter. 25
chapter. 26
chapter. 27
chapter. 28
chapter. 29
chapter. 30
chapter. 31
chapter. 32
chapter. 33
chapter. 34
chapter. 35
chapter. 36
chapter. 37
chapter. 38
chapter. 39
chapter. 40
chapter. 41
chapter. 42
chapter. 43
Отрывок из книги
resides in south Florida, where she enjoys spending her free time with her extended “family” of friends and relatives, as well as several unruly pets. She confesses to being virtually tone-deaf, but does adore jazz music and the blues, particularly the music of Django Reinhardt.
Erica is also the author of Spanish Disco, as well as the upcoming Divas Don’t Fake It. She can be reached at her Web site, www.ericaorloff.com.
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He accepts that I am always late, always have a run in my pantyhose, crave Junior Mints, often have chipped nail polish and, to cap it off, lipstick on my teeth, and that I always cry, no…sob…at weddings. Something comes over me, and so I keep a tissue tucked in my cleavage just in case. I also wear waterproof mascara. Dominique is wrong. First of all, she wears mascara that runs despite my arguments for waterproof. Second, though she accuses me otherwise, I also still believe in love. I don’t know whether I cry because I think the love between two people taking to the dance floor for the first time as husband and wife is so beautiful, or because I’m not sure I believe it ever really lasts. Or because some of the greatest guys in my life prefer wearing pantyhose and mascara, just like me, and want to borrow my clothes. Or because no one’s ever asked me to marry him.
I want to get married someday. But after all I’ve seen as a wedding singer—grooms making out with maids of honor in upstairs hallways, the bride’s side ending up in a massive brawl with the groom’s side, and even a couple of no-show grooms on the big day—I picture, instead, me growing old like Nan. Still in this house surrounded by my friends and a few cats. I’ll be the Crazy Cat Woman of New Orleans. Though, with all the eccentric characters in this town, I’m sure that coveted title is already taken.
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