Being force-fed a salad of worms, spiders, and leeches…walking barefoot on a field of razorblades, knives, and broken glass…having one’s testicles tied to a bowling ball before it’s hurled off the top of the Empire State Building…
To me, none of these situations constituted a “good time.” Yet all of them brightened in comparison to being in the same room with Niki Wiggins and listening to the Bronx-born chorus girl babble on and on about Destiny’s Storm. Not that I wasn’t interested in hearing a “fan’s viewpoint” when it came to the soap opera, but the voice of this particular fan—whose nasally whine would have made Fran “The Nanny” Drescher stuff cotton into her own ears—started annoying the s**t out of me after only a few minutes. If only Reed and I had sprung for Internet access, I’d h
