Another Snowflake In Heaven

Life is precious and unique, like a snowflake. Today, one of those snowflakes passed to the great beyond. Leona Helmsley, the 87-year-old snowflake, is dead. While the world remembers her as the "Queen of Mean," Mr. Feelings remembers her as something much more tender. Love, too, is a snowflake. And Mr. Feelings has seen many of these delicate creations in his lifetime, but none stands out as much as the plump-limped beauty that was Mrs. Helmsley.

Find out why they call me the Hemingway of erotic literature after the jump...

You never forget your first time. No, not sex. I mean the first time you fall in love. It was in Greece, Zakynthos Island. I was a foreign exchange student. She was the rich girl out for a good time. It started as a one night stand but blossomed into a secret love we hid from everyone we knew. I would take her in my arms and say, "Leona, my darling, I wanna do sex to you all night long."

Not long afterwards she was pregnant, and we foolishly planned to run off together. We were to rendezvous at the docks under cover of night and hop the first steamer to Jarkata. Darkness fell, and I waited... and I waited... and I waited. The next morning I read it in the papers. She and her husband had flown to New York to be near her ailing mother-in-law. I never saw her again.

I drowned my sorrows in a bottle of ouzo with a side saganaki, followed by an entrée of kleftiko and stifado with milopita me pandespani as the dessert. The food was delicious, and I forgot completely about pregnant ol' whats-her-name. Then my buddy, Jace, told me about a sweet party at the topless beach. I'd never seen so many boobs. It was awesome. We set a row boat on fire and got laid.

I returned to the United States with a B- Greek Art, a C+ in Greek History, and an A+ in love. Also, Leona gave me nasty "social disease," a reminder of our time together. I'll never forget her words to me: "I don't do condoms; only the little people do condoms."

So now when you see Mr. Feelings eating a gyro and weeping tears of regret, you'll know why.

Goodbye, Leona. We'll always have Greece.