True Story

I got a letter in the mail the other day that told me I need to send in a new passport-sized picture of myself to my massage school. Apparently the original one I sent in was not sufficient--perhaps because they had sensed that I had just cut my head out of a picture taken at a friend's Boogie Nights party in which she snapped me in bright blue 1970s roller skates pretending to sodomize my fellow with a bottle of beer? Perhaps not...