Auntie Mime

I want to become a mime just so I can be called “Auntie Mime”, learn how to do makeup to look like Rosalind Russell, and dress in stunningly fabulous ensembles, including silken tunics, turbans, kitten heels, and other extravagant accoutrements, flitting around a variety of gorgeously appointed rooms with elaborate curving staircases, waving around a cigarette holder sans regular disgusting cigarette but into which a chocolate or candy cigarette was inserted instead, acting out all sorts of outlandish reactions to what everyone else was saying. But then again, there’s the little matter of mimes being annoying as hell. Oh well.

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