This morning I broke my goddam back clearing a path for the McBonemobile. The roof of McBone Manor groans beneath two tons of Mother Nature's worst. A 2000 mile swath of America is buried under a frozen crust of snow, sleet, salt and ice. As I type, the mercury plunges. Nerves are frayed. People are pissed.
Though it may be the thick of winter, there's one spot in Greater Cleveland that's as piping hott as ever:
The tank top, the short shorts, the hair piled on top of hair. Oh yes, McBoners, it's the Sheffield Lake Girl. You wanna find her? Shouldn't be hard. She'll be the one melting all this stuff.