So, I get back from what seemed like several decades on the road shilling my latest tome, and the first thing I have to do is go pick up a young woman (a friend of a friend who I met on a plane–my life is like that, okay?) and take her to dinner. At least I think it was dinner–my stomach along with my brain and other important body parts were stuck in a time zone other than the one I found the rest of me in. I don’t recommend that–things can get awkward.
I hop in my car (which probably wasn’t wise) and motored off in the approximately the right direction. A few minutes later, I find myself stopped at a red light and I glance around. A sign catches my eye. In big, bold red letters it announces a contest that is going on at a certain drinking establishment in town–there are MANY.
The grand prize is a boob job.