by Jennifer L. Leo
Men. We love them for making us smile, and hate them for breaking our hearts. They’re good for carrying our bags, and I swear, one day, we’ll invent a way to convert their natural gas into useable power for our hybrid cars, laptops, foot spas, and anything else we’d rather be using than an air freshener. I know some of you would prefer to live without them, but I never could.
I entered the travel writing world because of Tim Cahill and have since made room on a bookcase for signed Bill Bryson books, driven from San Francisco to Santa Barbara for a Pico Iyer reading, and gotten drunk with Rolf Potts on three different continents. In short, I love our traveling smellier half. That’s why, after Bra, after Panties, after Thong, those with the bulge in their pants asked when they would be able to write for one of my books, I couldn’t say no. In fact, everyone at Travelers’ Tales thought it a fabulous fun way to complete this scantily clad underwear empire.


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