There's something about the number three.

Three parents.
Three siblings.
Three husbands.
And now, three times that I've been taken from my home.

Funny how these things work out, hm?

A man came into the store today; wouldn't stop looking at my breasts.

I wish that they'd look at me my face.

 Gods.

... Now what?

[Enter Helen, modeling a red, floor-length evening dress, which has no back to speak of]

Tell me, darlings, and I require an honest answer: Does my behind look big in this?

[Filter: Private]

So here I am again. One more round of applause for the gods, for Helen has been swept away yet again to a foreign land. Just as I wake to see Troy coming down around my ears, this time. What a change of pace for hateful Helen.

I just want to go home.

[Filter: Public]

I have been told that I need to find employment.