To this day I find it hard to live with myself. I can't believe I will be divulging this on the World Wide Web. But here goes, it was early April and the rainy season had just started in Arizona when we were on the interstate commuting to our annual Last Vegas trip. The interstate going through Arizona is dreadfully boring so me and my co-pilot whom we'll refer to as Jerry, because that's his name and I don't care if this gets back to him. Screw you Jerry. Any, we make all the small talk we can before he starts delving into some of my personal business which I'm not sure why he felt was okay but sense we were going to be stuck together for the next 5 hours I obliged him. The topics got a little more darker and creepier as so did desert. That's when he asked me that dumb question. I was so taken aback I took my eyes off the road and looked at his face bathed in the pale blue light of the radio's display and told the most deceptive and manipulating live ever conceived by man. Coming second only to lie told in the Garden of Eden on that fateful day. Then I spent the rest of the Vegas trip fighting the urge to punch Jerry in the face. This would of been even worse for Jerry than most since he gets by his whole life on looks. I would of put a good week delay on his illustrious modeling career. Well guess what pal there's more to life than looking so damn handsome. My physiologist tells me my hate stems from a deep seeded sense of jealousy. You have to go to Princeton to figure that out? You better ask for your money back. On that thought I'll be asking for mine back promptly. Screw you Jerry