“So here’s the deal . . .” as Justina so often says. We started writing our book as a really fun, winter, dining-room-table project to get down—chronicle—all the wild, zany, whimsical, naked-body-part, magical fun that we’ve had at motorcycle rallies, Fantasy Fest at Key West, Florida, and at house parties, hotel parties, and hot tub parties during the preceding four years since The Great Upheaval began and—we had hoped—ended itself.

It was a Tuesday night in September. We were playing with Justina’s laptop on the dining room table. We were chillin’—mildly drinking and mildly high after sex earlier that evening—and keyboarding to YouTube whatever favorite songs came to mind and groovin’ to the grooves.

We also were animatedly retelling ourselves our favorite motorcycle rally and Fantasy Fest and hot tub stories, laughing our asses off at their hilarity, spontaneity, synchronicity, and sheer unbelievabilityness when Justina took a direct hit from an unexpected lightning bolt.

She looked, suddenly thunderstruck and wide eyed, at Justin. “This is THE BOOK!” Justina blurted herself.

Justin, suddenly thunderstruck and wide eyed, looked at Justina for about three seconds and then urged, “Start typing!”

Justina did.

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Our book is not fiction. It is a co-authored memoir: a fact-based recollection of actual places and people and events. The people, activities, and events celebrated in this book are real. Only the names of characters and the names of some of the places have been changed or invented.

Consequently, the observations, descriptions, opinions, judgments, evaluations, interpretations, and conjectures presented by the authors are simply the authors’ observations, descriptions, opinions, judgments, evaluations, interpretations, and conjectures experienced or expressed in the moment of the event or scene. Other persons, naturally, might have their own versions of what happened, or why it happened, or what it might . . . mean. Sure, we’ll eagerly buy those books; can’t wait!

And just so you know, all three sections of our co-authored memoir Rallies, Fests, & Hot Tubs: Having Fun Can Be HELL on Relationships are drafted, revised, and edited. We, however, are unable to publish Act I at this time. We expect to be able to publish it soon—when god slows her bulldozers. So we decided to publish Act II instead, to be immediately followed by Act III which we expect to publish in mid-to-late 2015. We’re taking a break!

Enjoy the ride (or, at least 33 1/3 of it, for now) and . . . don’t forget your boots. Purple, if you’ve got ’em! And keep in mind: We don’t know what any of this means. We just know that it happens—because it has!

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