“That’s probably not good for you.” “STFU,” I replied in non-acronym form, as I chugged the remainder of my Merlot. “I mean, not right before you go to the gym.” Had he been a fleet of wild horses with Gos’s face, he couldn’t’ve dragged me away from my nightly libations. I mean, my hypocritical boyfriend at the time who’d keep a cigarette in his mouth whenever I dragged (zing) him.. Read More