I had a dream about our very own TIS last night. She was sitting in front of me on a Sex and the City bus tour, and was reading the exact same copy of a Sopranos book that I had given to a friend who had then sold it on eBay. We got talking, though she had a Yorkshire accent, and when I asked her if she was "an Italian stallionette", she denied all knowledge of an in-reference.
She kindly gave me the book back (it had notes and personal letters of mine in it), but then it was stolen by two expert pickpockets on the subway going to 'the Bronx' (which was south not north of the city I was in), from which I was hoping to catch another train back to 'England'.
Fun times. Delirious times.
...dot com bold typeface rhetoric. You go clickety click and get your head split. 'The hell you look like on a message board Discussing whether or not the Brother is hardcore?
