Today A. forked, spooned and Splenda'd me... it's not as erotic as it might sound. The fact is, she threw a fork, then a spoon and then some Splenda packets at me during lunch. No, no, no -- there didn't need to be a reason. Lunch was over and it was just A.'s way of driving the point home. To that end, it's a good thing she didn't have a knife. In the free-form jazz assault genre, A. is freaking John Coltrane and she was merely vamping in the zone.
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