Before I commence with my loosely-defined topic of the day, I simply must comment on the rash of celebrity-couple separations that's been storming the courtroom lately. Bruce and Demi. Meg and Dennis. Kim and Alec. Harrison and...whatever his wife's name is. And now Tom and Nicole??? These pairs have all been married for like, ever, in Hollywood years! Is there something in the water out there? Is this one of those signs of the Apocalypse? Are they compensating for Liz Taylor's ease-up on the nuptials? What what WHAT is going on here? And why the hell do I care, if I even do?

OK, I feel better now. Deep, cleansing breath. Now on to more important things, like smut.

There was a definite theme to this day. Not necessarily an unusual theme, just a recognizable one. My work day started with the discovery of a party favor that I'd forgotten I'd stashed in my purse, and ended with my favorite coworker showing me a mold-spore petri dish love-in. During my lunch hour, I had this morally-upstanding song stuck in my head. On the drive home this evening, after a grocery jaunt to stock up on snack cakes, I giggled at a bumper sticker reading "Naughty People Lick." Then I realized I'd been craving some quality time with a pack of menthols and how for me that never has anything to do with nicotine addiction or the smooth taste of filtered carcinogens, but everything to do with that bit about idle hands and the devil, or something to an effect that I would later have to confess to, if I was Catholic or on Jerry Springer.

Alas, all I did was sit on my sofa and eat my snack cakes, which is hardly worth a Hail Mary or a boast to the folks in the trailer court. Hostess Cherry Pies, to be exact. I thought I'd kicked that habit, but no. I thought I was through with a lot of guilty pleasures, but they seem to need occasional revisiting. At least, I like to think they do. And I can do that (think and do), being single and what-not. It's not as though I'm part of some high-profile long-standing celebrity couple or something.