Everyone I passed on the trail around the lake was grinning at me as I went by, which seemed a little bit odd, but I attributed it to just how nice out it was.
Then I got back to where I had parked and found that the shape of the bicycle seat had conspired with my super-comfy worn out jeans to push what flowery romance novels refer to as my "manhood" out of the gaping hole in my crotch1.
Thankfully I wasn't "going commando" or anything, but everyone I passed could clearly tell what religion2 I am without too much effort.
1: when my pants begin to wear out, the first thing to go is always the crotch. I'm not sure why exactly that is, but I always like to mention that to people in a suggestive manner.
2: For what it's worth, I'm an Agnostic Deist. Figure that one out ;)
The author lives in Vancouver, Washington, USA with his girlfriend and a menagerie of cats, rats, fish, birds, guinea pigs and robots.
Among other inanities, he strives to use investigative techniques to work young starlet breasts into every aspect of rational discourse -- focusing on the discourse, thus making it not perverted. Also, has recently begun a career as "Internet hairstylist."
He can be contacted via email and Jabber IM at 'firstname.lastname@example.org'. He likes to be contacted.
(All press inquiries, however, ought be directed towards the author's agent, Alistair Hoel, via email to email@example.com.)