From the Valentine's Day archives, because I didn't have time to get you anything this year.
But that doesn't mean I am not thinking of you.
I would like to be able to show you the slutty new tattoo* I am sporting as a Valentine's Day surprise for Mr. Kamikaze, but I can't.
And not just because I didn't get one.
I also didn't get one in a place you can't show on public radio, if you know what I mean.
But seriously. I am actually here to talk about books.
Not here. Here.
I only used that whole slutty tattoo business to rope you in. It's an old trick and I take no credit for it. But I'm not going to apologize for something that you fall for every single time! You are practically asking for it.
But wait! Not just any books. These are sexy books. Books to read between the sheets even.
And if there is anything better than getting into bed with a fresh stack of books, then I am not the Internet's foremost authority on sex and/or laundry.
*As for the tattoo, I had envisioned something guaranteed to make Mr. Kamikaze's heart pound with excitement. Upon further reflection, and with a writer's keen instincts for unintentional irony, I decided against having "Antiques Roadshow" emblazoned across my collectibles.
Happy Valentine's Day.
From the Valentine archives: Sex in the Suburbs