Miss Tahmi just showed up at my house yesterday unannounced, kidnapped me, and forced me at gunpoint to accompany her to Iowa City, where she lavished me with food and drink and a couple of books. The wench.

She needed to pick up a U-Haul truck for 1-Stop, because the ever-gorgeous Mr. J broke his toe last week (while wearing sandals at work, like a dumb ass) and was in no condition to be driving a crapped-out U-Haul anywhere under any circumstances. He’s so lucky his woman’s superhero name is Errand Girl.

I drove Tahmi to Iowa City in the Jeep and we talked about sex the entire way, with much squealing and throaty, raucous laughter. I’d tell you about some of her college trysts, but you’re probably not old enough to know about them. (Let’s just say she’s got one single story that trumps, like, five of my very best ones, even my rock star ones!) I nearly beat my poor steering wheel to death while screaming, “OH MY GOD! YOU ARE SUCH A WOMAN-HED!”

We picked up the target U-Haul, Arizona plates and all, and parked it at the hell mall. Then we ran around being girly for a few hours.

I actually bought myself some clothes. At Walmart, I bought an orange tank because it will make me look tan. It’s too big, but doubtless I’ll shrink it like I do damn near everything else. At a consignment shop, I bought a strappy zip-backed dress, a hippy skirt, and some sandals. At Barnes & Noble, I took two Guy Gavriel Kay books in lieu of gas money.

And then there was dinner at Olive Garden, where I ate entirely too much and practically limped out to the car in extreme gastronomic distress. Damn those delicious portabello mushroom ravioli and their enticing sun-dried-tomato-smoked-cheese sauce, anyway.

All in all, it was a damn fine day. I had fun. I also obtained a 100-count box of Otter Pops, which was probably the entire point.