My Fellow Inebriates,
Emily, presumably looking for a subject matter expert, forwarded me this question:
I love this. It’s like the person wanted to make sure Emily knew what the question meant—i.e., not how a bear detects scents (try 4000 x human sensitivity, people) but how filthy a bear actually smells to its unfortunate family. Yes, bears smell. And they smell. Bad.
Meanwhile, my friend Patti asked me if I’d seen this item on the shelves:
Holy crap, MFI, I had not noticed this product. Patti, as God/Thor/the Great Spaghetti Monster/the Zombie Collective is my witness, I will not rest until we have it at LBHQ.
And then, as if life wasn’t exciting enough, I learned I’d been named in a will:
Awesome, right?? The first thing I did was grab my dad’s credit card and send the digits to my benefactor (including, of course, the three-digit security code). Who wouldn’t love an inheritance? My dad will be so happy when he finds out. Maybe he’ll buy me that Pumpkin Face Rum…or some deodorant.