Reena Sky explains: "I had this one guy who liked to dress up in women's knickers that he'd stolen from his apartment block laundry room, tie up his balls in twine, then have me order him to set his bic lighter to the underside.
I want to be the boss of mysef and not have anybody else give me orders.
I tend to go overboard – my friends have stopped me ordering now as I want to try different things and I can put food away at a jaw-dropping rate.
Col. Muammar el-Qaddafi once stared down at me from a throne as I sat, as his bodyguards had ordered me, cross-legged on a rug before him.
It was a Monday, and friends who know the city had ordered me straight to Donna's Bar & Grill, a modest-looking club on North Rampart Street, which forms the northern border of the French Quarter.
What about Johnnie Moore, the man who had ordered me to submarine school against my will, back in September 1941?
Nick had ordered me a coffee, which seemed like this manly 'I know what you like already and I've taken care of it' thing.
Most dishes were well above $10, generally my cut-off; the lamb chili a friend had ordered me to try was $14.95, and they also had some pricey cocktails.
Saddam's son Qusay had ordered me to keep them safefrom UN weapons inspectors in 1992, and the Iraqi governmentconcocted a story that they had been destroyed by the securityservices.
Either way, someone had ordered me a bowl of warm peas and a pint of Kronenbourg, so things were off to a good start.
