Liz has sent an email to a man she chastely spent the night with circa 1978 (who has now given up being a film star)... and is so excited she's ordered a milky tank top. Liz is talking about THAT piece again, the one where she admitted to trying to steal her husband's sperm, and says that you've got to start young if you want to be a writer, because you have to keep records of all the men you've slept with. But is Liz's total really just three and a half?

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