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Chicks, man

I’ve always been a guy’s girl. Not the alphabet-belching, screaming-at-televised-quarterbacks, Dutch-oven-ing kind; I love looking and feeling feminine, and my periodic “high-volume coaching” of televised boxers and childish inability to walk away from an arm-wrestling challenge remain purely coincidental. By guy’s girl, I mean the girl whose social circle heavily skews toward the peen. With…

The evidence of Amanda’s visit

Apparently, Mandy occasionally reads the site. Also, these items were procured only after Mandy had intricately conveyed to the salesgirls my own interpretation of Eau de Brown Sugar & Fig, eliciting an, “Ooooh, it smells exactly like that!” and a promise to forward said improved description on to corporate. (In related news, two SLC-based Bath…


Today is the auspicious 35th birthday of the woman who made me love women again: Salt Lake City’s Amanda Jane Mitchell. I’m missing her big bash in lieu of raising babies, entertaining the folks in town from Florida and cashing in on the tickets we’ve had for 6 months — Kathy Griffin at the Paramount….