That might not have been much to Marybeth, but it was a lot of Whoppers for a gal like me.

“That’s great!” Rochelle said, beaming.

The others murmured congratulations with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

“Anybody else have any yummy news?” Doris asked.

“Actually, I do have good news,” Pam said. “Jaine here has agreed to write a resume for me.”

“Here’s to Jaine!” Ashley took a healthy slug of her margarita. Something told me she would have toasted Hitler if she thought she could get another drink out of it.

“That’s the good news,” Pam continued. “The bad news is that I got rejected for another part this week. The casting director kept me waiting three hours and then didn’t even bother to have me read. She said they’d already decided to go with someone else. It wouldn’t have been so bad, only they’d made the decision two hours earlier and nobody told me. She made me sit there all afternoon for nothing. And she didn’t even apologize.”

The members of the PMS Club were filled with righteous indignation.

“What a horrible person!” Colin said. Well, that’s not exactly what he said. He said a four-letter word that rhymes with blunt. (Those of you who guessed runt, guess again.)

“Here’s to that [bleepity bleep] casting director.” Ashley raised her glass in another toast. “May she get a yeast infection!”

We all raised our glasses and drank to that most heartfelt toast.

“So what else is new?” Ashley asked.

“Well,” Doris said, taking a deep breath, “I went out on a date this weekend. From a video dating service.”

“Tell all,” Colin said.

“What a nightmare. The guy wrote on his member profile that he was 62. And I’m sure he was 62—twenty years ago. All I know is he was at least 80 when I saw him on Saturday. What a date. I spent the whole night slapping him.”

I blinked, incredulous. “To keep him off you?”

“No, to wake him up.”

“You think that’s bad?” Colin says. “Remember that guy I gave my phone number to at Williams Sonoma? The one who looked like Kyan on Queer Eye? Well, he called.”

“But that’s great,” Rochelle said.

“Not so great. He turned out to be an insurance salesman. I bought $25,000 worth of term life before I found out he was married with three kids.”

“Here’s to the life insurance salesman,” said Ashley. “May he catch the casting lady’s yeast infection.”

And we all drank to that one, too.