Actua-*hic* actually, my name is Shar-*hic*, Sharleen but I got a feeling that you can *hic* sure enough make me Mona. HAHAHAHHAHAHAHH*hic*HAHAHA! What's that, sug? You wanna know about *hic* about me*hic*? Ok.
Well like I said, my name is Sharleen, Sharleen Shablanksi. I'm 52 years young, sweet thing, and I'm a tigress in bed. Get me between the sheets, I'll be the subject of all your tweets. That's a catchphrase, sweetie, trademark pending. I like to drink, clearly, and I'm always up for a party. I have seven kids from, oh God, like nine different guys but they don't really talk to me anymore - the kids, not the guys. The guys still come after me pretty regularly cause, well, I know you know why, you're looking at me. *rawr*
Huh? Why am I like this? What do you mean, "like this"? I'm white, sugar, ain't no "like this" for me to be, I'm just a privileged alcoholic, so if you don't like it, you can suck it...please! Please suck it. I like my tits to be played with, honeybear. But I guess it really started when I was about 19 years old. See, I moved out of my parents house then because they were trying to make me go to school and get my degree as a doctor. They just wouldn't leave me alone about it and it wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a dancer. Not like a stripper or anything, but a real dancer - like on Broadway. So I moved out of my house and up to New York to try and train with a good studio so I could become famous.
When I got to New York, though, I didn't have a place to live or a job so it was rough going. I would wander the streets all night and all day, trying to get some work so I could make enough to find a place to rent. The upside to that was that I got to know my city very well by walking around all over the place. The downside was that several times a night I was approached by men, sometimes women as well, but mostly men, and asked if I was dtf and what the price would be. This went on for several months and it was flattering but I never really bought into it.
One cold night in November, though, I hastily changed my mind. It was well below freezing and there was a major snow storm going on. I was walking through lower Manhattan and a limo pulled up next to me. I didn't even wait for the man to finish talking, I just jumped right in and we sped away. He was saying something, I don't know what it sounded like Russian or German to me, and I just understood what I was supposed to be doing in that situation so I nervously undid his pants and started getting to work.
He pushed me off and the limo driver rolled down the glass and explained that he just wanted to talk to me at his hotel, not have his way with me. But I just couldn't come to grips with it so once we got to the hotel, he explained that I was going to be his salt-wife. That I was to stay in the hotel, never leave, and always be naked and ready for him when he came home. The first night was awkward but after that, I guess you could say I had my "awakening". I pleased him up and down, left, right, center, nothing was off limits. And he treated me like royalty. Always bought me the best and newest trinkets and things, took me to fancy restaurants, plays, the ballet. It was wonderful. He even put me in his will after a while.
Then, he died. It was tragic. He was on safari in Africa and hunting big game, probably lion or rhino - something exotic, he loved that. Well, I don't know exactly what happened but somehow he had gotten chased up a tree by something and fell. When he landed, he hit his head and was unconscious. As he came to, he didn't know where he was but he heard the crunching of his bones and saw a lion eating his legs. He scrambled for his rifle and picked it up to fire. Unfortunately, in his confused state he didn't realize the rifle was the wrong way around and he shot himself through the stomach with an elephant rifle.
I cried until I couldn't breathe anymore. The next day I stopped crying because he had left me with more money than I ever dreamed of - 289 million dollars. I was so happy! I went out and began to find men that would sleep with me because I just missed the feeling of being important. I would buy them dinner and anything they desired so long as they would just sleep with me once. And I've been doing that ever since. I can't explain why but I know I like it, and I only sleep with men who are 26. They have to be 26 because that's how old he was when he died, it's like my own little connection to him.
So.....how about it? You want a car or an airplane?
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