pink hearts, yellow moons, white powder and pep

While my brain bakes its own bread and stews on the island dotted with fluorescent cocktail umbrellas, here is what my magnifying glass found today:

It was all my e-mail spam come to life in an internet news article—after having come to life in a real live bathroom stall. Cheerleader lesbians. Soon to be in select theaters near you. While I could certainly think of cleaner and more comfortable places to do it—I’m usually too involved in the acrobatics of trying to relieve myself without touching the toilet seat or any of the urine having spattered on it, the floor, or the walls, which means squatting and hovering while keeping my pants and coat and sometimes bag at a safe distance from anything that isn’t me and yanking toilet paper all at the same time to consider it—it’s hot the pert and peppy twentysomethings were so impassioned they had to go pleasure each other right there and then. They certainly braved the Transgress Express. And then topped it off when the gruff one on her way out punched the girl who was waiting to pee.

A city snorting so much cocaine its remnants are in the river, after having passed through bodies and sewer—sounds like a set for Willy Wonka having passed from psychedelia into a speedier 80s binge. Kate Moss gets a mention in this short article for her "enjoyment" of some lines earlier this year, causing her to lose modeling contracts and general oompah respect.

Imagine if Kate Moss were photographed snorting cocaine while having sex with a cheerleader in a bathroom stall. O what we would have to talk about over tea when we should instead consider more serious topics like "intellidating."