Ah, what envy has wrought! A fellow blogster, one, included in her entry yesterday some scurlious rumors about the author of this acclaimed blog, Pepino Suave. Last Saturday, the sunny-day blogster made reference to my statements about me returning home when the Women’s Work was done, , and how I hoped she enjoyed cooking as much as I liked eating. No, this bitter, yet bodacious, author of snipes wasn’t done with her campaign against Pepino. Last night, thousands of readers alerted me to Inky’s tripe. Upon reading it, I noted that the gorgeous guru of get-backs had yet some more venom to spill. As I labored over a hot fire making a Black Bean Chorizo soup, beads of sweat rolling down my balding pate into the concoction, ol’ Inky was writing to her gaggle of readers about my supposed attempts to compensate for my ill-spoken remarks. Apparently, she was too busy taunting me about the handful of calls I made from the market to remember the tulips I bought her. So, a guy can get a girl tulips. Just ’cause I cook dinner, buy flowers, do the dishes, , sort the sock drawer and make hot chocolate once in a blue moon doesn’t mean I am over-compensating. Does it?
Yikes. I’m as transparent as celophane wrap (as Aunt Nina might say).

Con mucha verguenza,

Pepino Sin Verguenza

PD Embarrassing pix of Inky in footy-pajamas to follow. Stay tuned.

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