I got on an airplane. I am not convinced I will be able to do it ever again. Ian gave me a little sum’in sum’in that took the edge off, to the point that I was simply flexed and miserable, but at no point did I scream, cry, or demand that the plane land.

Provo, Utah. Pretty much what you might think. Lots and lots of slightly chunky hot blondes.

Here’s the thing. These poor girls who are forced to embrace right wing thinking know that they have to present themselves as willing sexual partners, but not overtly so. Just three tight t-shirts instead of one. Just the half inch of bronzed tummy skin between the shirt and the pants instead of three.

I would love to do a study on married mormon women and depression. I have never known people with more desperate sadness or overt hostility. For all the kid-having, this place is about a maternal as a scrotum.

Hot as balls. 103 when I went running.