I used to work for a tiny graphics design company. Before I'd go home in the evening, I had to take the boss's long haired chihuahua out for it's daily 'business'.
Steve and I have a wonderful connection with a woman whom makes the biggest and best cookies and then sends them to us on our birthdays. We are lucky fellows.
Steve is the kind of guy who can look sexy even while wearing a lumberjack beard, pink pimp glasses and politely tolerating semi-violent drug dealers that were hopped up on PCP and tipping on a gallon of white zinfandel while the bartender nervously called last call an hour too early with her hand on the panic button. Where was I? Oh, yes. Steve is sexy.
I blame you.
Beat that.