Okay, if I may, I need to preface some. I'm preparing an article about Former German Chancellor Schroeder for later today; that's if I can get to it. Apparently Uncle Gerhard wants his supervisors at the Kremlin to fund a public relations venture in Western Europe. This has a number of my EU readers with their shorts in a knot. But, I need to do just a little house cleaning first. Sorry for any inconvenience. If you could lift your feet please while I vacuum. Grazie.

That said, as you are likely aware, yesterday there was a bit of a tussle. The Edelman boys came to my bordello here looking to raid and upend the place. Venom and testosterone crazed, their arms flew all akimbo. Only a couple bruises resulted thankfully; no one hurt. After the authorities came and broke it up, peace was restored... well... for the most part.

Well, Strumpette got off with a bang indeed. Our server is still quivering. Note this girl's got that telltale smirk today. Thanks.

What's next? Scott Baradell said it best, "we're definitely looking forward to the encore." Me, too! Queue the Beatles "With a Little Help from My Friends." A good Strumpette knows that the most pleasing position is listening. I'd love your feedback.

I am playing with a few story ideas:

The first is purely prurient. There could be a catfight brewing with Ochman. She was the only one with something truly negative to say. Jealous. The pom-pon girls always gave the cheerleaders that attitude. We dismissed them with a look. (Sidebar: I've seen your site B.L. Who picked out that outfit anyway? I mean, there's no there there.)

Seriously... I am thinking about a PR version of the "The Drug Pushers" in April's The Atlantic.