On Thursday night, I decide to go out in Tel Aviv. Since my blue jeans still have Egypt smeared all over them, I have no option but to put on my black ones. The ones I have never been able to fit into. The Size 32s. No leaping up and down, and no writhing on the bed.
Trumpets sound and angels weep.
This truly is the Holy Land. And I'm one snazzy-lookin' stud. I should have probably mapped these out before I wrote them. They seem kind of weird now, and not very interesting. But, hey, it was an experiment.