I recall a time--I may have been 11--when I found an Aerosmith CD among my sister's stack of jewel cases. I couldn't stop staring at the image of a cow's udder pierced with a gold ring. I couldn't tear my eyes away, partly because I knew it was a perverse image.
Once, I kissed a guy whose chest smelled of lime. In the morning, his breath tasted like cigar smoke.
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