Goodbye August

August Wilson has died. He was only 60. Liver cancer.

What a horrible loss. He was a great playwright. There are too few writers like him; with his depth and heart and ability to be provocative without being narrow and…with his talent. He will be missed.


Fun Fact: On a much different note: I left the gym this morning with the palms of my hands smelling like a strange woman’s perfume.

Don’t worry; I’m not grabbing strange women while I work out.

But why do people find it so difficult to wipe down the equipment after they get done using it? The gym forces us to bring towels, after all. And it’s not because the CEO of Bally Total Fitness is a huge fan of The Hitchhiker’s Guide. It’s because the rest of us don’t want to have to wallow in your sweat.

Or perfume.

My hands became scented after I used the crosstrainer. Now, the only parts of my body that even touch the crosstrainer are the bottoms of my feet and the palms of my hands. And yet I came home smelling like lavender or some damn thing.

Why do certain women feel that they need to apply perfume just to go to the gym? And not just any perfume. Industrial strength NASA perfume. Perfume that won’t dissipate even with soap and water.

And why the hell are they applying it to the palms of their hands?! What are they dong that the palms of their hands need to smell nice? Are they running some kind of murder-for-hire strip-mall smothering boutique and day spa? Are they constantly playing that stupid “guess who” game?

No. They’re just idiots with smelly hands who can’t figure out how to use their towels.

That’s a fact.

I wonder if the soles of my shoes also smell?

I don’t think I’ll check.