The Thicket of Solitude

Oreos are like the worst food in the world for you, right? Then it is unfortunate that they are so damned delicious.

I have devised a new recipe wherein I dip the Oreos in a jar of lukewarm mayonnaise that's been in my filing cabinet since October. The Oreos are of the Halloween variety, meaning that the back of each is encrusted with a jack-o-lantern, a swirl of bats, a bedsheet ghost. If I happen to pull one with a witch on the back, I like to torment her first. "To the dunking!" I yell. "If she floats she is inn-o-cent!" But of course no one floats in may-o-nnaise.

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Patty Mayonnaise . . . what a tramp.

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She was probably a witch.

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I am entering a new state of cheapness. This is an attempt to horde as much money as possible while writing large checks to the government, my landlord, etc. This means that if you ask where I want to go out for dinner, do not be surprised if I say "Aldi's."

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Any news on the slapping site?

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Vodka