Have I lately mentioned the phenomenon known as my game? Its epic scope, its savage beauty? The sheer number of top-quality gametes I'm daily swatting away like baseballs at a batting cage?
A gust of wind blew my skirt up as I exited the subway this afternoon. I'm pretty sure it was the microsecond of exposed olive-dinge undies that induced this dude to follow me from the subway to the drugstore to the coffee shop and sweep me off my feet:
My guess at the aborted Question 14: "
Do you like one light stand?"