Bigror, light of my life,

Bigror, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin. My soul.

She was Ror, plain Ror, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Rorie on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Bigror.

:) added for the V. Nabokov impaired among us.

Rorie called Mark today, I’m sure she meant to call me :) but the phone made it back to me eventually. They have openings for Vignette programmers at Southwestern Bell. She says she’s even part of the interview process and makes suggestions on who to hire. Could it be that my job woes have reached an end? I will have to take another look at my resume.