The wife looked all right -- much less like Petunia Pig, anyway, which is who she looked like when we had Logic in college way back in the day. And the kid was cute. But DtR, never what anyone would call good-looking to begin with, hasn't aged well, with his three strands of hair pushed back like a Bensonhurst Guido and his middle-aged spread peaking out of a tank top and his bus-garage mouth with his nasty greenish-gray teeth. Like Sipowicz, except uglier and with breff is how Laura described him when she ran into him even before he lost more of his hair. So he and I stared each other down, he with that stupid bus-garage smirk that I wanted to smack right off his gob if I could do it without touching him (shudders). As I said to my co-worker, "Sometimes, there's just no accounting for taste."

(And yes, there IS a reason why I call him DtR, but we're just going to leave it at that here. If you're dying to know, we can chat privately.)

Anyway, so seeing him reminded me of scum and how I used the word "scum" a couple different times in my last couple posts -- specifically, that the word "scum," I'd forgotten, actually means "ejaculate" (as in the noun) and is far filthier a term than I usually associate with it. When I think of scum, I think of the green stuff that sits atop ponds or accumulates on the sides of the can when you don't clean it, not baby goo. Is that weird?

Oh, and from "It-was-really-funny-last-night-when-I-was-buzzed-up" department: