I want a pair of wired granny panties that come with earbuds to track my pulse, hormones, fluids and temperature. The earbuds would whisper messages like…
The things I buy call out to me with the lure of eternal coolness. Then I bring them home and forget about them.
I know I should fear an algorithm that doesn’t know the difference between rugs and shoes, but I’m addicted to eye candy.
Ward Cleaver would have had a heart attack at the breakfast table if June had said, “Ward, I’ve been thinking. Now that Beaver and Wally are in school all day, I’d like to have sex with other men.”
Now I’m trying to picture Marlo Thomas with hairy legs and I can’t do it. Long leg hair in sheer stockings is like vacuum packed seaweed.