Never mind; call me "Sex."
Late Friday night, after a busy evening of shopping and preparing for my departure for Nordic Fest, I was summoned to IrishTenor's with a midnight phone call and a sweetly uttered, "Please? I'd really like to see you."
I arrived shortly after 1 AM and rang IrishTenor's doorbell. From inside the apartment, I heard IrishTenor's voice, laced with anticipation, telling TheViolinist, "It's either pizza, or sex."
IrishTenor opened his apartment door, saw me standing outside the building, and announced jubilantly, "It's sex! Hi, Sex!"
I arrived shortly after 1 AM and rang IrishTenor's doorbell. From inside the apartment, I heard IrishTenor's voice, laced with anticipation, telling TheViolinist, "It's either pizza, or sex."
IrishTenor opened his apartment door, saw me standing outside the building, and announced jubilantly, "It's sex! Hi, Sex!"
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