So she's working in a pie shop of, by, and for lunatics, living in a halfway nuthatch, and now will be the first 300lb. pole dancer in the great desert Southwest. I didn't know bars had a Rule 34.
No word of the laptop or the ripped, long-haired savage, eagle feather in his hair, loincloth flapping, screaming through downtown Tucson bareback on his pinto pony.
(I thought a courser was something like a greyhound.)