Recent Effluvia:

I bought a candle. The label said, “Fig-Olive”, which sounds like rather a revolting combination, but actually smells quite good. These, however, may not.

1. “The Toronto” A tantalizing combination of raccoon musk and overturned garbage can
2. Last Year’s Yogurt
3. “CSI” Experience forensic science in 8 and 10 inch tapers
4. Burnt broccoli-melting styrofoam
5. Unwashed Mawashi
6. $2 Whore
7. Wet Dog fur. Nuff said
8. “The Bender” Tom Waits’ breath after a two week drinking binge
9. Campground outhouse
10. State Fair Petting Zoo

1. Nude clown orgies
2. Goat oil-wrestling
3. Snacktime with Michael Jackson
4. Republican boner contest
5. Goatse ability
6. Jack Ozbourne-Paris Hilton lovefest
7. Projectile Leprosy plague
8. All Sims women become Ann Coulter
9. My Albanian neighbors
10. Yanni soundtrack

Today I felt old for the first time. No, I’m not getting creaky bones, or wrinkles or even moving slower than I did in my 20s.

I discovered …

a …

white …

chest hair.

Shoot me now. 😳

While at the corporate giant coffeehouse the other day, I had the unfortunate experience of standing in line behind a most irksome woman, a beastly snob who felt the world was here to serve her. Picture Harry Potter’s fat Aunt Marge with an uppity East Coast accent.

She got out of line to ask two other women what their opinion was of her shoulderpads:
Annoying woman: “Ladies. If you were to go to a wedding, [ turns around ] and you had these shoulderpads, would you cut them out, or leave them?”
Both women said, “Uh, cut them out?”
Annoying woman: “See, this is why I asked you instead of a man [points rudely at me and her husband]. Like they would know what I’m talking about. You! [ snaps her fingers ] Good and helpful people of Starbucks! I am in need of two safety pins! Hurry now.”
Barista: “Ma’am, we don’t carry sewing supplies.”
Annoying woman: “I see. All right then, a straight pin.”
Barista: “We … don’t have those either.”
Annoying woman: “Well this won’t do. You come into Starbucks and expect someone to help you and they practically spit in your face. I … [ dramatic hand flourish ] am leaving.”

Were I to write a novel, there would be no clever plot ideas waiting in my notebooks, but I do have an opening line:

“I have no love for the buttons my tailor chose…”

It’s ambiguous, pretentious and mysterious in only ten simple words. What would yours be?

Do VW Beetle owners have to punch themselves every time they get in their car?