Ms. Vaughan, yes, it was 4520

Sweet low, sweet chariot.

You tell me my hair's like cotton candy, then your wife with the zebra stripe comes and colors me cinnamon.

Beautiful men tend to look alike, don't they?

Love isn't a many splendored thing. That's too corny a description. It's more like ... a slow, maddening scooping out of the soul.

Who leaves me breathless nowadays? I look in the mirror. Then I puff on my inhaler. Now that's hot.

As you can tell, I'm being deliberately vague.

Hooray for Thursdays!