Here's a new one for the files

It seems my neighbour has been boiling hot dogs, and lots of them, all night long. The odour has wafted into my bedroom through the washroom. In here it now smells like the elementary school kitchen would on Hot Dog Day, each Wednesday.

I remember you always had only two choices: With mustard, or without mustard. It was Catholic school. They didn't splurge on the extraneous shit like ketchup and relish. No. Margarine and mustard (or not).

And now, my boudoir, my chamber of secrets, my love shack, smells like boiled wienies.

Yeah. That'll be good for a sex life.