Look man, we don't even know her *name*, so I don't know what kind of
story this is. I mean, all we did is convert a mild-mannered geek
gathering (eps was there!) from a slowly-evaporating over-by-1AM
geeksaster to a night of beers, tequila, and chicken wings with a
well-pierced blonde taller than me, stronger than duck, and audibly
tanned, and a brunette who kept caressing her breasts all night long
to be sure the keys were still in the right place.
Really duck, not a story, partying until sunrise in New York. Back to
PS. "I am not making this up"