It’s so frustrating when people don’t realize you have a musical gift. I couldn’t help but sing “I Say A Little Prayer For You” this morning as I got dressed, since I was riding high on a wave of endorphins derived from someone fucking my brains out last night. By the way, I don’t mean to sound like a smug, fulfilled person who just has great sex all the time. Life is okay; the weekly lay is one of my few sources of sanity. Even then, I find intercourse a combination of wonderful and stressful. This was the sassafrass response I abstained from sending: “Claudia, your morbid obesity has gotten out of control. I noticed the Alli Weight Loss pills poking out of your bag — next to your littered Chinese takeout containers and Ben & Jerry’s — and it’s depressing the fuck out of me.” She is disgusting, and I wish her nothing but the worst.