It’s amazing how the yard sales have gotten so much more R-rated since I moved to northern California. Sure, there was that one sale in Connecticut that had just mountains and mountains of porn; but beyond that you don’t usually see anyone’s naked bits, unless someone’s bending over to look at old train sets and you can tell very obviously that they forgot to wear a belt.
Next up, in “Mom, Don’t Read This” Week! …Well, we don’t see butts. We see something other than butts. (For the record, this one’s also appropriate for “Why, Just Why?” Week.)