Okay, the antibiotics I'm taking for my ear infection are affecting my um, er, ah digestive system. Yeah, that's the euphemism I want, my digestive system. It's been a while since anything has been um, launched from my body, if you get my drift.

    Houston, we have a problem.

    So I'm standing in the laxative section of the village drugstore, intently reading all the various bottles and boxes and stuff and trying to figure out the most natural way to deal with this. Metamucil is about to get my vote when I notice that this guy about my age, wearing way, way too much jewelry, is pushing his cart up and down the aisle, kind of brushing against me.

    The first time I figured it was a co-incidence. The second time I figured maybe he was a bit clumsy. The third time it dawns on me he is trying to get my attention.

    I am being cruised.

    In the laxative section of the drugstore.

    By a middle-aged man wearing way, way too much jewelry.

    Now had I been standing in front of the condom section of the store, loading a shopping cart with a wide selection of rubbers and lubes, wearing a provocative outfit ... and had the man in question come with a seeing eye dog, then I could grok the situation.

    But it's me, Marn, wearing a sloppy tee shirt and jeans, my hair still up in my gym ponytail, with a bottle of Metamucil in my hand.

    Clearly Metamucil has heretofore unheard of aphrodisial powers.

    And to think I once believed Love Potion #9 was probably a perfume ...