Okay, I just got my second call from Heather this morning. Her first was on the way to work to report that it was raining. Actually, this morning she was rather calm, the word FUCK only came out of her mouth once when she complained about the weather.
Our second conversation went like this:
Heather: Oh My God, talk about boobs. I was just in the coffee shop and the barista had boobs bigger than yours, mine and Chris' put together.
Heather: She was wearing a lacy tank top that barley covered her nipples. I couldn't take my eyes off her cleavage.
Me: Did you like it?
Heather: It was like a car accident.
Me: Was your coffee good?
Another update in an hour when she calls back to tell me about a lady screaming on the corner. Do you think she really has a job?