Anna

jumping off a boat, eilat

"Profile Toolsbaby from dirty dancing meets darlene from roseanne and their curls multiply."

Anna's Photo Gallery

Erica
Posted
Three days later my pillow case still smells like Diva Curl. To preserve this memento of my last contact with Anna, I may never wash it again, unless it makes me break out.

Rachel
Posted
Anna sure has a way with words. I have never met anyone else who can turn a laundry list of nerves into very, very dirty mnemonics. Anna my darling, WHAT would I do without ya?

Dallas BBQ
Posted
Anna, I'm getting worried. I haven't seen you around in ages and now I see you haven't logged into Friendster for two weeks. TWO WEEKS! Please, tell me you're ok. And make sure to stop by for a margarita when you're back in town... all of your favorite waitstaff are still here.

Suzanne
Posted
what med student has time to jump off boats in elat, not to mention risk frontal exposure with that strapless bandana you seem to call a bikini top? oh, dear, what has israel done to you... it seems, good things, because you look so damn happy with your jewboy, puppydog, and boatjumping. miss you muchly, hope you're fantastic! mwah!!

Sarah
Posted
Hear ye, hear ye, all 256 of Anna's Friendsters: I have seen the girl. She wasn't kidding with the offer of hummous, at last count she had three kinds in the fridge. Her New York edge has been replaced by an Israeli rage. It's a wonder to behold. So is she.

Hillary
Posted
I wanna be a Jew! I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas shopping and the only thing that could make me happy this year is knowing I could see my darling Anna. If only she were in my time zone, then maybe I could pretend to enjoy shopping for shit in these stores where everything looks the same as the crap I bought last year. The best would be to spend all day inspecting various wares and then falling into a couch at Auction House with a nice glass of red and telling Anna all about the woes of an atheist at Christmas.

Dallas BBQ
Posted
was it something I said? I give you a sweetness hangover, quarter chicken meals and a frickin' t-shirt and you run off just about as far away from Dallas as possible... oh well, as they say, if you love something, let it go. If it returns to you, slather it in BBQ sauce.