Golddiggers

I got this girlfriend who's a major golddigger. Apparently Viagra has blown that field wide open. She's juggling all these rich old geezers. They pay her rent, her bills, one even bought her bigger titties. Basically her only job is to keep them from bumping into each other. She says she like to keep a 24 hour turn around time... calls it quality control. "I just feel like too much of a slut when I have to double book." At the time this particular comment was made she and I were hanging out at the mall with one of granddaddy's credit cards, so while I was thinking, "A slut? Are you kidding??? You're a hooker who's found a legal loophole..." what I actually said was, "Give yourself more credit, girl! You are the best thing in these men's lives, making their twilight years special, sending them off with a smile, so to speak. You're not a slut, you're a saint." I could tell I made her feel better. She said, "I know... like, what's the difference between me and, say... a volunteer down at the senior center." "Geez, I don't know... maybe a hundred grand?" She ended up writing a book called "A Hundred Grand and a Bed Pan... a golddigger's guide to the big bucks." It has tips like no matter what never look directly at his bareass, defibrillators are your friends unless you're in the will, and twelve easy positions after hip replacement.