God, I'm horny.

Seriously.

I know it's springtime, but I'm rapidly approaching three-balled Tomcat territory here. If my horniness were terror alert levels, it would mean Chicago had just been leveled by a dirty bomb.

I hate to tell you, but If something doesn't break loose soon, the leg of my couch is gonna be in a family way.

Holy crap.

It gets worse walking around Williamsburg, cause the women are starting to dress really sexy. I mean not REALLY sexy, it's just when you've been on a steady diet of seeing women wrapped in puffy coats and Han Solo parkas, it's that first baby tee of the season that can just floor you.

I was on the way to the bodedga for a paper this morning and was waiting to cross Bedford as a cute girl with dirty blonde hair passed in front of me on an old retro bicycle. She was maybe late 20's, early 30's, and wearing one of those thrift store t-shirts that was just well-worn enough for me to notice the color of her bra.

Green.

As she passed me by, she rolled over a bumpy stretch of pavement, causing her soft, apple sized breasts to perform recorded history's most breathtakingly wonderful confirmation of Newton's Third Law.

My eyes watered, the wind went out of me, my palms hit my knees and I started wheezing.

And just like that, she was gone.

I bought a newspaper, but didn't read much of it.

It's been that kind of a day.