This morning a tall, leggy brunette in her mid 30s came into the office. She was wearing a tight, hot pink outfit designed to attract attention. Her boobs and butt were in violation of at least two laws of gravity. (One of the gals in the office commented that she'd had a little work done.) Her slacks were pulled up so high on her hips that you could see how she wears her hair, if you know what I mean.

She came in with an older guy driving a sporty, little red convertible (". . .Baby you’re much 2 fast. . ."), and whose wallet had to weigh as much as me.

I complained to my cousin, "Life's not fair, dude!"

"Shit, she’d run away from him and to us in a heart beat…..our wit and charm alone would make her drool….of course the wallet thing would ruin us," he said.

"Do you really think girls like 'Pull my finger' jokes?"

"Of course they do."

"Ya know, that could explain why we're both single. . . "

"Hmmmmm."