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As if they’d rehearsed to make Jane feel as though she were back in the ’90s, Jen and Marissa brought their old-school drama to the evening — some hilarious, some horrifying, all of it sworn to secrecy. Everyone danced until the wee hours, passing out sometime after fries were ordered from room service at 3 a.m.

After the leftover fries had gone cold and the sun had come up, Jane shook off her grogginess and donned the goofy pair of oh-so-Lady-Gaga novelty rock-star glasses I’d given her (each eye peers through the center of a guitar). We checked out and caravanned to the Tractor Room in Hillcrest for breakfast. I was halfway through my lemon-lavender mimosa when I noticed Jane was flashing another new accessory. “Are those the beads from the table?” I asked.

“Sure are,” Jane said, and proudly held up one of the glittering medallions that broadcast her age.

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pinkshoes March 18, 2010 @ 8:38 a.m.

Good for you! It's great to have friends who really know how to smooth the rough spots of life!

Caio Bella!


Robert Hagen March 25, 2010 @ 8:06 p.m.

Well Diva, this is a poser, because women are sensitive about their age. Men are really lucky in the sense that we supposedly mature better, sexually. The truth is that men who never got none in the first place, act like longshot thoroughbreds, we gallop toward the finish line chasing what?

Mature women are the best. I´m no big numbers stud, but I do know that women are like wine, they get better with age.

Meanwhile, women know men get better with age, and some serious confusion erupts.


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