Once upon a time, when I was young, there was no internet.
I know.
The world was dark and terrible then.
Back then, in the ancient of days, I would take any chance I could to wander off into Waldenbooks, hoping to sneak a furtive, desperate glance at this (and other such books), praying no one saw me.
It seems so tame now.
Anyway, I found this (Ken Haak's
Sleeping Beauties) today at a charity book fair, nestled in the "Art book" section.
It was 50 cents, so, of course, I had to buy it.
I just have to wonder which poor soul
evil queen died so that this book could finally find its way into my bed?
 |
| (Oh, how I would squint desperately at this one, trying to get a faint glimpse of peen. No wonder I need contacts now) |
 |
| (I always wondered, "what the hell is he doing with that chapstik and change anyway?"). |
 |
(oh, but these are the images that life long insecurities are made of.)
And they lived neurotically ever after. |
