Sorry for getting chai latte on your white leather pants, Mr. Steven Tyler
One sunny afternoon in Toronto, I almost bowled down
Steven Tyler, large lipped frontman for undead rock band,
Aerosmith. Now, the purpose of this missive is not to recant at length the storied history of Steven Tyler's numerous groupie conquests,
fruits of loin, chart topping hip shakers or Run DMC collaborations. That would be a flat out 'No'. All I'm saying is that rock stars with cell phone armed, multi-drone entourage should not wear all white patent leather pant suits in from of clumsy, blackberry pecking internet writer types. Because that mix = trouble.
My apologies for the lengthy absence. I promise, next time, to only leave in the morning.