Never ever tell the very-flaming perfume-demonstrator in your store that you can't accept his kind offer of services from his freelance employment as a bikini-waxer because you can't imagine looking him in the face again once he's seen the Heart of Darkness.
It will get around, oh yes it will.
What the hell. Let 'em talk.
You remember what Conrad put on the face sheet of that novel, don't you? "Mister Kurtz, he be dead."
Well...
Posted by: Bob Baird at December 15, 2004 07:43 PMA friend and I were going up the escalator in Macy's one day. As we came to the top, a Perfume Nazi in a lab coat said, "Would you like to try some of Elizabeth Taylor's Passion?"
I said, "What's that, Fried Chicken and Barbiturates?"
Yeah, I could stand to grow up.
Posted by: Anna at December 16, 2004 09:32 PM