Overheard at the grocery store checkout line just a few minutes ago, from the Average Joe Bachelor in back of me. “Yeah, I had to buy this bottle of fabric softener with a little girl and a blanket on it. Sometimes I wonder why they don’t make ones with a guy and a football or something. Then I wonder if I’d actually buy it, because you have to wonder what sort of smell it’d have. I don’t think it’d smell the same as this stuff. Okay, I take that back. I don’t think I want football guy scented clothing. Pink …
“O-Town is not a truth of the universe.” “No, O-Town is not. They’re like…sugar substitute. Like…Equal!” “To *NSYNC’s sugar. Pure, and unprocessed.” “Not quite.” “No, not quite. Like um, Sugar in the Raw.” “Who is confectioner’s sugar?” “Fluffy and white. Uh. Dream Street? Boyz II Men is like caramel.” “Brown sugar.” “Dark brown sugar, baby.” “So what’s Backstreet? Like, sugar cubes?” “Granulated, processed white sugar. They’re the cheap store brand. Not even C&H.”
“How many credit cards do you think they have? And like, what’s the limit on them?” “They probably have those cards with no limit.” “True. What are they gonna say? ‘Sorry, we don’t think you’re good for it’? I bet Lance charges the space trip to his American Express.” “The Russians don’t take American Express.” “But they *do* take Visa.”
So… raise your hand if you, too, think that the House of Elrond sounds like a swanky Middle-earth BDSM leather bar. “Serving the Way of Pain since the Second Age!” And that Saruman frequented it before secluding himself in his very own Tower of Power. “You shall taste of manflesh… 24 hours a day, 7 days a week!” Now, try to imagine either of them in a studded vest and chaps. Then join me in a moment of deep and abiding horror. Thank you.