How do I feel after waking up from an ex-lesbian-induced coma? I feel like Tom Verlaine before he fell into the arms of Venus de Milo. I feel like Sonny Bono when he got murdered at a ski resort. I feel like Richard Nixon when his leg got saved from amputation. I feel like a Singaporean refugee begging Malaysia for water. Don't ask me anything else because I'm having my dangling sacks stuffed to breezy Kay Lenz's 1973-era proportions.