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It’s Frisky Friday again — show me what you’ve got.

A rant about the state of baseball, followed by strip club conversations with friends at the Yankee game.

Snap judgments, Birkenstocks, and ostrich burgers: a date that was over before it started.

When I wanted something, I had to have it — not out of weakness, but out of confusion.

I don’t usually obsess over a type, but right now, I need a pale, freckled, busty redhead like I need air.

We meet halfway, in a town with a hotel and a liquor store. That’s all we need.

It’s Frisky Friday again — show me what you’ve got.

A friend describes her orgasms — the chasing, the hallway, the wave, the jellyfish. It’s insanely hot.

I’ve never picked anyone up on the street. But I think it would be fun.

A shamelessly inspired request, and a meditation on what makes a picture — or an orgasm — actually hot.