Once again something foul washed up on the New Jersey shore. Something beyond comprehension and the conventions of good taste.

Random, unidentified slabs of entrails from an unknown species. Complete with knife wounds and cigarette burns. My guess: someone refused to pay protection money and stuffing their body beneath a dumpster sent too weak a message.

Speaking of strange offerings from the sea, my new boss took me out to lunch last week. Definitely a new thing to work for someone I respect, rather than someone I once fantasized about goading into a fight so he might provide me an excuse to punch him in the throat. I mean, I wish the ex-boss well in all future endeavors. You go, girl!

Anyway so the super-cool-new-boss and I were chatting over burgers and he noticed I looked a bit shredded.

New Boss: Is that from drinking or a woman?

Sam: Both?

New Boss: You’re having way too much fun being divorced. I can see that.

Sam: I’m not quite sure that’s the right noun.

If everything falls into place next week, I’ll have some more details about the long underground soon to surface marketing project.