I hear it was a two hour lovefest.
I went instead to the West Hollywood Book Fair to brush up on the latest developments in queer lit.
I sat in on a memoir writing workshop.
There was a loud blonde tranny who wrecked the class.
I was about to leave when a tall beautiful blonde came in and sat next to me.
"Torah must wait," I decided.
After giving her mine, I got her name — Amy Karl.
I immediately Googled her on my Blackberry and discovered she was an actress. She’s finished a memoir and she’s shopping it.
Whenever I get down in the dumps, I like to feast my eyes on a beautiful woman. It revives my neshama so I can go back to absorption in the sacred text.
I’m real sorry I missed this theatrical production. Sometimes it is only such sublime art that can tame my savage beast.
Our teacher, Diana Raab, gave us an assignment to write two paragraphs about a turning point in our lives.
When Amy got up for an inspirational potty break, I fled to meet a social obligation (watch the Dallas Cowboys lose).
Looking back, if I had known then what I know now (having seen her "Pieces of Ass" photos on my desktop), I would’ve talked to her about the value of tzniut.
Dear Amy, if you are reading this, and I know you are, please know that I am not a stalker.
