About the first two-thirds of this diary of digital enterprise records the activities, even conversations, that Sally Ann Morrison (Clit will become her sobriquet) holds with her ""rosy redness"" after she discovers its existence ""north of the peepee hole."" As she says, ""I'm such a nerd about this sex thing."" In fact insatiable. Pages and pages later, accessorized with Tampax and toilet paper and other soft goods, she's in Paris where she tries to reform Alex Bane, a bisexual richkid junkie, ends up producing not one but two little Rosebuds, returns to Buffalo to support them and the increasingly unsatisfactory Alex, and then heads back to another kind of vie en rose in Paris. Gael Greene sponsors the book but says America may not be quite ""ready for Clit Morrison."" Without any second guessing you can assume she's right. You can also assume that there's something very wrong with that old dictum--busy fingers do not make light work.