Something's in the Attic and It Smells... Musty.. Yeah, Kinda Musty

If I had to come up with a porno, you know like if a guy came up to me and put a gun to my head in a dark alley, and said "Hey, kid, use that great head of yours to come up with a plot for a porno, or your brains and that wall are going to get mighty well acquainted," I'd call it MOTHBALLS.



It obviously would star a half woman/half moth - her genetic makeup would be covered in flashbacks, showing actual "genetic makeup." This 1/2 and 1/2 (I'd call her Susie Roth (part moth)) would be inexplicably drawn to bright lights, moving from rural Kansas to the bright lights of Wichita. The obvious dances of love would ensue, and since I'd model it after the great Grecian dramas, it would be complete with a chorus (played by the Flaming Lips, obviously) and a tragic end to our heroine.

The tagline would be "Imagine 'the Fly,' if Jeff Goldblum had jugs, and cross it with Antigone... and you have MOTHBALLS"

Abracadabra Bro!

I knew I was pasty, but I didn't think I actually glowed white. Apparently I do, because today I was playing cards at lunch and itched my neck... only to have a moth fly out of my shirt and up to the ceiling.

I actually said "Did that moth fly out of my shirt?" Now I know how a magacian feels. The mystery is whether it was in my shirt this morning when I put it on, or if it found its way onto my neck when I was walking back from Bread Co. with my lunch. If it was on my neck all day, then I'm proud of it, because that means it took the Metrolink with me. In that case, it's like only 2 percent of StL commuters, according to an article today.

Moths still freak the hell out of me though, even if they don't have mouths.