Look, I know it’s not supposed to be funny. Really.
But when the guy came into the study room I’m in (there’s no one else in here at the moment) and asked me if I had any lotion or grease, all I could think about was pulling a can of crisco out of my backpack.
No, I don’t know what he was going to use it for, and no, I don’t really want to know. And no, I didn’t have anything anyway (and if I did, I don’t think I’d want it back.)
