About three years ago, I was at a smallish cocktail party that was being hosted by a friend of a friend. During the course of the small talk over bad hors devours and even worse, a warm Sprite, the conversation turned to professions. Next thing you know I am being drug across the back yard to ‘advise’ the host on what to do with his outdoor living space. I said, sure. Why not? Just give me a few minutes to get my bearings and come back and we’ll talk. He went back to the group inside and that’s when I stripped completely nude. Continue reading
freelance horror stories
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