Day 8 and no one has spotted Barry Weiss at this blog yet. Either my experiment is failing or he has been donning one of his favourite disguises.
He may be dressed like this:
I wonder who Victor is. And, how in the hell did he get his hands on an oxygen tank? That is an oxygen tank, isn’t it?
Perhaps, Barry would like to reminisce about the time he burned rubber and almost asphyxiated himself.
By the way, I have to thank Barry for introducing me to the Lotus Europa. This is one cool car. And, for also teaching me about the etiquette of flatulence. According to the ever suave Mr. Weiss, it is okay to fart anytime after the third date–which makes me wonder what kind of gas-laden women he has been spending time with.