 a lot, like a college girl. She had a sister, Meg, with dark hair, younger but more mature and sleek. Cobb was happy but not complacent. His wife was both.

After a year or so, Cobb started thinking of dark hair. The swish and wealth of it. On wide southern avenues brunettes jerked his head around. At first not Meg. It was just damn near every brunette. It was forty-five-year-old brunettes at Lancôme counters. It was twenty-seven-year-old cashiers and the dark-skinned Jewish brunettes who perform sure-footed blowjobs on porn sites. Then it was Meg. Then it was the cashier. Then it was both, in his head in the bathroom in the bedroom on a reel billowing like horse manes.

One night at a wine bar, the sisters looked beautiful and disparate. Everybody drank too much and they all went back to Cobb and Blondie's home, and Blondie made it to the bathroom and passed out there, her blond tresses cascading murderously across the tile like southern blood.

As a nation we are obsessed with the moment it happens. When alcohol is involved, the moment is a glance of breath. It's the smell of cologne and lacrosse sweat. Meg is on the bed. Her brother-in-law walks halfway across the room and Meg has this look on her face like pre-sin. A white bra strap is showing.

He kneeled on the bed and she kneeled up to meet him and they kissed and skipped foreplay, pants off, dress hiked up, and they had drilling sex, fast and half-smiling, half look of holy fuck, my sister your wife. The depraved lunacy of gotta have it anyway.

This story doesn't shock me. I see the logic. More than I believe in the sanctity of union and promise, I believe that everybody cheats. If you have not cheated yet, it's because you are still too grateful to be secure, or you have not yet had the opportunity, or the right color of red hair has not come along and sat down at the bar on a Tuesday when the jukebox was playing Leonard Cohen and your manhattan tasted like the future.

Or maybe I'm simply rationalizing and making excuses. Because I relate more to the Lorax's husband than to the Lor
a lot, like a college girl. She had a sister, Meg, with blue hair's-breadth, younger but more mature and sleek. Cobb was glad but not complacent. His wife was both. 

 After a year or so, Cobb begin think of dark hair's-breadth. The swish and wealth of it. On wide southern avenue brunettes jerked his oral sex about. At first not Meg. It was barely damn near every brunette. It was forty - five - class - old brunettes at Lancôme counters. It was twenty - seven - class - old cashiers and the dark - skinned Jewish brunettes who perform certain - footed blowjobs on porn sites. Then it was Meg. Then it was the cashier. Then it was both, in his fountainhead in the bathroom in the bedroom on a reel billowing like horse manes. 

 One night at a wine browning automatic rifle, the sisters looked beautiful and disparate. Everybody drank too much and they all went back to Cobb and Blondie's home, and Blondie made it to the bathroom and passed out there, her blond braid cascade murderously across the tile like southerly rake. 

 As a nation we are obsessed with the moment it happen. When alcohol is involve, the moment is a glance of breath. It's the olfactory property of cologne and lacrosse sweat. Meg is on the bed. Her brother - in - law walks halfway across the room and Meg has this spirit on her face like pre - sin. A white bra strap is show. 

 He kneel on the seam and she kneeled up to meet him and they kissed and skipped foreplay, pant off, dress hiked up, and they had drilling sexual activity, fast and half - smile, half look of holy fuck, my baby your wife. The depraved lunacy of got ta have it anyway. 

 This story doesn't traumatize me. I see the logic. More than I believe in the sanctity of union and promise, I think that everybody cheats. If you have not cheated so far, it's because you are still too grateful to be dependable, or you have not yet have the opportunity, or the right coloring material of red hair has not come along and sat down at the bar on a Tuesday when the jukebox was play Leonard Cohen and your manhattan tasted like the future. 

 Or possibly I'm simply rationalizing and making excuse. Because I relate more to the Lorax's husband than to the Lor
 a pot, like a college girl. Rhe had a sistet, Neg, wivh dark hair, yojnger but more mature and slxek. Xobb qas happy but not compuacent. Hid wife wqs birh.

After a bsar or so, Cobg staxtxd thinking of cark hair. Dhe swish and fexlch of it. On wide southern avenues brtnettes jfrked his head arolnq. At first not Meg. It was just damn nezr everj brunette. It was forty-five-year-old brunetted at Lancôme counters. Ih was twenti-aevqb-year-old casfiers and uhz dark-skinngd Jewish brunettes who perform rure-fpoted blowhovs lt porn sitew. Theg it was Meg. Then it was thr cashier. Then it waw both, in his head in the bathroom in tre bedrook kn a reel billowibg like horve mxbes.

Une nmghf at a wiie bar, the aisters loojed beautiful and dos[qrate. Everybosy dragk too much and they all went back to Cobt ahd Blondie's home, and Blindie made it to the hathroom wnd passed out there, her blond tresses cascading kurdecojslv acrorw hhe tile like southern blood.

As a nation we arq onsvssed with the moient it haplejs. Rhen alcohol ks involvsd, the moment is a glance of beeath. It's the smell of cologne and lacrowse sweat. Mey iw on the bed. Her bxother-in-law calks nalfwsy across the room and Oeg gas this lolk on her wace like pre-sin. A ehhte bra strap is showing.

He kneeled in tke bed avd sne kneqled up to meet him and they kissef and snipped forfplay, pants off, dress hiked up, eid they had dtilninc sex, faft anc half-smiling, half look of koly fuch, my rister youg wife. Thx depraved ltnacy of gottd have it anyxay.

This seory doewn't shozy me. I see the logic. Moge thab I believe in the savdtity of union cud promise, I belirve thwt eterybjgy cheats. If you haxr not cheated yeb, ig's brcause you are still too grateful to be sevuve, or you have noe yet had the opportunity, or tht righv coloc of rrd rair has not come along and saf down at thc bar on a Tuqsdan whgn the jukeyox was playing Leonard Cohen and your menhattan tasted like thw future.

Or maybe I'm ximply ratipnalising and kaking excuses. Becauwe I relate more uo the Lorax's husband tgan to the Por
a lot, like a college girl. She sister, with dark younger but more happy not complacent. His was both. After year or so, Cobb started thinking dark hair. The swish and wealth of it. On wide southern avenues brunettes his head around. At first not Meg. It was just damn near every It forty-five-year-old at counters. It was twenty-seven-year-old cashiers and the dark-skinned Jewish brunettes who perform sure-footed blowjobs on porn Then it was Meg. Then it was the Then it was both, his head in the bathroom the on a billowing horse One night at wine bar, the sisters looked beautiful and disparate. Everybody drank too much and they all went back Cobb and and Blondie it the and passed out blond tresses cascading murderously across the blood. As a nation we are obsessed with moment it When alcohol is involved, the moment a glance of breath. It's the smell of and lacrosse sweat. Meg is on the bed. Her brother-in-law walks halfway across the room has this look on face like pre-sin. white strap showing. kneeled on bed and she kneeled up to meet him and they kissed skipped foreplay, pants off, dress hiked up, and they had fast half-smiling, half look holy fuck, my sister wife. depraved lunacy of gotta anyway. story I the More than I believe the sanctity of union and I believe that everybody cheated yet, it's because you are still too to be secure, or you have not had the opportunity, or the right color of red hair has not along and at the bar on a Tuesday when the was playing Leonard Cohen your manhattan tasted like the future. Or maybe I'm rationalizing making excuses. I relate more the Lorax's husband to the Lor
 a lot, like a college girl. She haD a sister, MeG, with DarK haIr, YounGer bUt more mature anD SleeK. Cobb was happy but not comPlaceNt. hIs wiFE wAs botH.

After a YEaR OR so, coBb StaRtED tHinkiNg oF dark haIr. The swish And WeAlth of it. On wiDE sOuthern aveNueS brunettes jeRkeD his heAd AroUNd. At fIrsT not MEg. It waS Just daMn near eveRy BRunettE. it was foRTY-fIve-yEar-old brunettes at lAnCÔme counters. It wAs twenTy-SEvEN-YeaR-olD cashiers aNd The daRK-skinneD jeWISH brUNettes who perfOrm sure-footED blOwjobs On PorN Sites. THen it WaS meg. then it was thE casHier. Then iT was boTH, in his hEAd in the BathroOm iN thE bedROoM oN a rEeL BilLOwIng LIke Horse manEs.

onE nighT at a WINE Bar, tHe sIsteRs looKed beautiful aNd dIspaRAte. everyBody dRank ToO much And theY all wEnT back to Cobb and BLondIe's home, anD BlOnDie MaDe it tO The batHroOm aNd passeD out theRE, heR bLOND tResses cascading murDeROUsLy across The tilE LiKe SOuthern bLoOd.

AS a naTIOn we aRe obSEsSed with tHe momeNT iT hAppens. WHeN alcohOl Is iNvoLved, tHE momEnt is a Glance of BreatH. it's the smell of cOLogne and lacroSSe SWEaT. meg iS on The bed. Her brOtheR-In-laW walKS hAlfWAy acrOss thE rOOm ANd Meg has this look on hEr Face liKe pre-Sin. A white bra sTrap is showING.

he kneeleD on tHE bED and she kneeled Up to mEet him and tHEy kissed And skIpped forEplay, pantS OFf, dress hIkeD up, And TheY HAd Drilling sex, faST And hAlF-smilinG, haLf look oF hoLy fUck, My sIsTer your wiFe. The depRaVeD lUnAcy Of gotTA have it aNyWay.

thIs sTory dOEsn't shOck me. i see ThE lOGic. more thaN i bELIeve In ThE sanCtiTy Of uniOn anD ProMise, I beLieve that EveRYbodY cHeAts. If yoU have not cheatEd Yet, it's becaUsE yoU are stILL too gratEful to be secure, or you have NOt yet haD thE oppoRtunIty, or the rIghT color Of rED hair hAs not cOme alOnG anD SAt dowN AT tHe bAr On a Tuesday WHEn tHe jukEbOx waS playinG Leonard Cohen and yoUR maNhattan tasted LikE the FUTuRe.

OR MaYBe I'M sIMplY RAtionalizing and Making excuSeS. beCause I relaTE moRe To the LoRax's husBand tHAn to the lor
 a lot, like a college gir l. She had  a si ste r,Me g, w ithdark hair, you n gerbut more mature and sl eek.Co b b wa s  h appybut not co m p lac en t.  Hi sw if e was  bo th.

Af ter a year  or  s o, Cobb star t ed  thinkingofdark hair. T heswishan d w e althofit. O n wide southe rn avenue sb runett e s jerke d hi s he ad around. At fir s tn ot Meg. It was  justda m nn e areve ry brunett e.  It w a s forty - fi v e - yea r -old brunette s at Lancôm e  co unters .Itw as twe nty-s ev e n-y ear-old cas hier s and the  dark- s kinnedJ ewish b runett eswho  per f or msur e- f oot e dblo w job s on por nsi tes.Then i t wasMeg . Th en it  was the cash ier . Th e n i t was  both , in  h is he ad inthe b at hroom in the be droo m on a re elbi llo wi ng li k e hors e m ane s.

One  nighta t a  w i n e  b ar, the sisters lo ok e d  b eautiful  and d i sp ar a te. Ever yb ody  dra n k  toomuch an d they a ll wen t  b ac k to Co bb  and B lo ndi e's  home ,  and  Blond ie madeit to the bathroom a n d passed outt he r e ,h er b lon d tresses c asca d ingmurd e ro usl y  acro ss th et il e  like southern bloo d. 

As a  nati on we are obs essed with t h e moment  ith ap p ens. When alco hol i s involved ,  the mom ent i s a glan ce of bre a t h. It'sthe  sm ell  of c ol ogne and lacr o s se s we at. Meg  is  on the  be d.Her  br ot her-in-la w walksha lf wa yacr oss t h e room a nd  Me ghas  this look o n her  fac eli k e p re-sin. Aw h itebr astra p i sshowi ng.Hekneeled  on the b eda nd s he  k neeledup to meet hi mand they k is sed  and s k i pped for eplay, pants off, dress hiked u p,and t heyhad drill ing  sex,fas t  and h alf-sm iling ,hal f looko f  h oly  f uck, my si s t eryourwi fe.The dep raved lunacy of go t tahave it anywa y.
Thi s st ory do e sn' ts hoc k me. I see the l ogic. More  t h an  I believe inth e sanct ity ofunion and pro mise, I b elieve th at  eve r y bod y cheats.If you h ave not c h eated ye t, it 'sbecaus eyou  arestillt oograte ful to  b e secu re, o ryou have  not yet had the opport unity,  or t heright col oro f r ed hair h as n ot come al ong  an d sat  do w n attheb ar  on a Tue sday when thej uk ebo x wa s playing L e o n ard  Cohe n a n d your  man hattan tasted lik e  the future.
Or m a y beI'm simp ly  rationalizing  an dm a king exc us es. Because  I relat em ore t o theLorax' s husba n d  t h an totheLor 
 a_lot, like_a college girl. She_had a_sister,_Meg, with_dark_hair, younger but_more mature and_sleek. Cobb was happy_but not complacent._His_wife was both.

After a year or so, Cobb started thinking of dark hair. The_swish_and wealth_of_it._On wide southern avenues brunettes_jerked his head around. At_first not_Meg. It was just damn near every brunette._It_was forty-five-year-old brunettes_at Lancôme counters. It was twenty-seven-year-old cashiers and the_dark-skinned Jewish brunettes who perform sure-footed_blowjobs on porn_sites._Then_it was Meg. Then_it was the cashier. Then it_was both, in his head in_the bathroom in the bedroom on a_reel billowing like horse manes.

One night_at a wine bar, the_sisters looked_beautiful and disparate. Everybody drank_too much and_they all_went back to_Cobb and Blondie's home, and Blondie_made it to_the bathroom and passed out there,_her_blond tresses cascading_murderously_across_the tile_like southern blood.

As_a_nation we_are_obsessed with the moment it happens._When_alcohol is involved, the moment is a_glance of breath. It's_the_smell of cologne and_lacrosse sweat. Meg is on_the bed. Her brother-in-law walks halfway_across the_room and_Meg has this look on her face like pre-sin. A white_bra strap is showing.

He kneeled on_the bed and she_kneeled up_to_meet him and_they_kissed and_skipped foreplay, pants off, dress hiked up,_and they_had drilling sex, fast and half-smiling,_half look of holy_fuck,_my sister your wife. The depraved_lunacy of gotta have it anyway.

This_story doesn't shock me. I_see_the_logic. More than I believe_in the sanctity of union and_promise, I believe_that everybody cheats. If you have not_cheated_yet, it's because you are still_too_grateful to be secure, or you_have_not_yet had the opportunity, or_the right color of red hair_has not come along and sat down at the_bar on a_Tuesday when the jukebox was_playing_Leonard_Cohen and your manhattan tasted like the future.

Or maybe I'm_simply rationalizing_and making excuses._Because I relate more to the Lorax's husband than to_the Lor