When I was younger, I lived in Alaska. Anchorage, Alaska, to be exact.

I had a best friend named Richie and a girlfriend — yes, a girlfriend — named Brandy; each in both the second and third grades.

Brandy was Hawaiian. Hot. Yes, even as a second-grader, I knew what I liked — exotic, good looking, and a good kisser. That’s right, we kissed. Only on the playground, though. It gave me much more credibility with my friends after they saw us kiss. I was King.

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