More Tenacious Than a Jehovah's Witness...

One of the things that Ariel has to contend with -- in addition to such desperate opening lines as, "Hey, aren't you Mena Suvari?" -- is the continuous flow of text messages from yours truly, asking her to send me a pic of herself. Or, more specifically, a pic of some random body part.

Occasionally, like the rich businessperson who tosses a coin in the beggar's cup, she obliges me, with a tattoo close-up or something non-incriminating. But for the most part, her response is typically, "Christ, that pervert again," and a quick swipe of the delete key.

But my feeling is, why the fuck else would someone put a camera on a phone than to keep insatiable miscreants like myself happy? I mean, the image quality is, for the most part, so bad, you wouldn't produce anything you'd actually want to keep around or, say, enter in a local photography contest. What else is it good for, then, than discreet snapping of college chicks on the T or random self-portraits (nude or otherwise)? I'm willing to bet that any boardroom meeting held to define the genesis of these camera phones included at least one Powerpoint slide dedicated to "increased trafficking of photos of hot chicks."

Anyway, that's what's on my mind today. So, Ariel... how 'bout a pic?