Tall enclosing pines and pillaring sycamores. It turns out that the woman I originally misperceived as a mushroom lawn ornament is Wendy, a friend's girlfriend. We're all loitering around the barbecue grill, pulling thawed dogs out of a generic thirty pack and placing them perpendicularly across the grating. I like my dogs charred. I cook mine till the skin is all black-blistered and a fissure cracks down the sides.
Meat is eaten with non-namebrand condiments . . .
He restricts any ethical objections to the world of advertising, however . . . That's his firm. We're laughing about the dual meaning of the words aspiration and consumption , simultaneously checking out my good friend Crowley flirt with a total honey babe while competing in a game of doubles quoits. The mushroom ornament's boyfriend, Corky Artese, comes over and we're all checking out the flirtation like the Miracles watching Smoky take the lead. We're all noting body contact and filling in potential dialogue since Crow and his quarry are way out of earshot.