So the recent unauthorized biography of 20th-Century lothario Warren Beatty claims he 'bedded' (whether or not a bed was involved) some 12,775 women.

And here I sit annoyed that I wasn't one of them.

As crazy as the number sounds, it's still a pretty elite group. And they have a certain distinction, regardless of whether their number was up for a few years, an hour or a mere 15 minutes.

Considering the closest I ever came to Warren Beatty (within a couple city blocks) in his pre-Annette Benning number-running days was in the year 1968 when he was in our neighborhood campaigning for Robert F. Kenndy's presidential campaign, he would have had to be Roman Polanski to put my notch on his gun, so to speak.

Not that I wouldn't have been willing, mind you.

By then I had already penciled (and I mean pencil) my epic Mary Sue fanfic, 'Bonnie and Clyde and Me.' And I was ready to slip my only copy into his hands, if given the chance. In fact, that was my plan. (Now that would have been one hell of an aphrodisiac.)

Alas, our paths didn't cross.

Ain't life funny?

This entry was supposed to be posted on January 5, 2010. But I am not going to make myself crazy trying to blog every day. It just ain't happening.