Sportsblogger, Heal Thyself

Excuse me.  I’m slightly drunk on vodka and cranberries and I’ve got a bed full of obsidian-eyed men drowsily offering to run their fingers through my hair and lick me so expertly I swear off English-speakers for life, but I had to interrupt my fun because Martin Fucking Brady said, when talking about Whoopi Goldberg, [...]

Obsidian

I’m sitting next to a man with eyes as black and shiny as obsidian.  He’s showing me a picture of himself, white bearded, wearing a stocking cap with NY on the folded up part.  He’s sitting on a wall, his hands folded in his lap.  He’s wearing a pea coat and new blue jeans.  His [...]