Gents, if you fear being untoward with compliments about our most obvious lady attributes, take a piece of advice from a spunky septuagenarian I chatted with at the laundromat today. A dashing television host once picked her out of a lineup of pinups to have on his show. "Did you find her in a crackerjack box?" a terribly rude caller asked. "No!" he said, "I'll tell you why I picked her, other than that she smells awfully nice...I'm just queer for ankles! And she's got the best pair I've ever seen!"
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