There's this aisle of crap in my store devoted to Easter junk colored in annoying soft, pleasant hues. For some reason it pisses me off. I wonder if somebody will pay me to sit around and do nothing for a couple of months to study my rare and debilitating disease of pastelphobia. Oh, I'll need health insurance, too. And some more of those Vytorin gel pens I can't find anymore. And cable. And some hookers. Any takers?
