What’s the point of the show anyway? Why would I ever want to get together with you and not have you feel like you’re all wrapped up in the silkiness of the silliness? How could I hold on to you… Read more ›

You keep me up later than I would be otherwise. I stay up thinking about what I’m going to do for you next, waiting for you to tell me what you want and hoping it’s something I can give you.… Read more ›

Why do I keep coming back? Is it the wattage you continually put in my cottage?  The potency of your pizzazz? It must be the collective charisma that draws me back each and every week so I can experience the… Read more ›

I can barely talk when it’s happening sometimes. I might manage to get a little squeak out but ,if I somehow manage more, there’s no guarantee I’ll get out what I want to say, the way I want to say… Read more ›

There’s always oh so many things happening when we get together. It’s an extravaganza of silliness, frequently fronted by my own monodrama (although not this week).  But the spectacle doesn’t end there. I want you to have the aural equivalent… Read more ›

Someday?  Don’t I mean every single Saturday night? Of course I do.  Every week I show up at the stroke of 11pm eastern looking for you. And that’s when the fondling begins.  I try to feel you up to assess… Read more ›

Oh, I dig it, baby.  You don’t even know how much. You make me laugh and smile and just feel so darn good. No wonder I want to give it all back to you whenever I can.  I want to… Read more ›

I never like to tell what I’m going to do on a show before I do it. I think it started because I so frequently have no idea what I’m going to do.  But even in this day of the… Read more ›