I won.

You know, in case you were interested.

You've probably heard the song "Under the Boardwalk," by The Drifters, right? (If not, I imagine you must be pretty comfortable under that rock, though how you got Internet access there is a mystery to me.) There's a line in the original version that goes like so:

(Under the boardwalk) Out of the sun,
(Under the boardwalk) We'll be having some fun.
(Under the boardwalk) People walking above.
(Under the boardwalk) We'll be making love
Under the boardwalk, boardwalk.

I was thinking about it this afternoon, and I don't think I'd like to make love under a boardwalk. It's probably really gross down there, all covered with discarded bottles and cans, hot dog wrappers, cigarette butts, and ABC gum. Not to mention seagull poop. Add in the potential for getting arrested on charges of lewd behavior and I think I'll stick to someplace a little more conventional for my lovemaking.

For some inexplicable reason, the other day I found myself thinking about the 1994 season of MTV's The Real World--the one with Pedro and Puck. If you didn't watch that show, then this observation may not mean anything to you, but it occurred to me that if a person were going to pick his nose and then use the same finger to scoop up and eat some communal condiment, peanut butter may be among the more sanitary choices. Most or all of the peanut butter that actually touched the booger-y finger will have come up on the finger, and the high viscosity of the peanut butter means that there will have been very little opportunity for the germs to spread into the rest of the jar.

It's still gross, of course.