Heh, I shared cubicle space at one point in my dappled educational career with this guy. He was the most outrageous man-slut I have ever encountered, and he was loudly interminably cheerful about it, when he wasn't seeking new improved esoteric&recondite modalities for getting ambulance-ride wasted. Before the current execrable acronym "milf" was ever uttered, let alone welcomed into the populistic pantheon of the Urban Dictionary, he was lecture-circuiting his theories on the dos, don'ts and doyawannas of Doable Mommies. He'd pontificate on just how old was old enough, usuallu citing shockingly low numbers bundled with advice on avoiding a statutory rap. What makes all this germane is that he insisted that he could taste Herpes. I didn't believe him, but know for a fact that tucked into a neoprene pouch under the driver's seat of his rotten Chevy Monza was an overnight kit containing three (3) items: a Burger King-logo Guy-string, some aerosol shampoo (it was morning in America after all) ... and a bottle of apparent prescription mouthwash labeled in Romanian. Although his face bore all the telltales of a young man who treated his body like a stolen Camaro, his lips seemed clear, so he might have been onto something. cn