This is my second entry for the day. For Goblin's Oscar Picks, please scroll down.

Yesterday, my friend and I went to the gym and stopped afterward at a place called Smoochies. Ordinarily, if I saw that an establishment was called Smoochies, I would avoid it like the plague, but my friend wanted to go in, so we went in.

As we entered, the man behind the cash register called out, "Do you know about Smoochies?" I also make it a point to shun any person who asks me out of the blue if I know about something, because nine times out of ten, that person is gearing up to sock it to you. (The classic example is "Do you know about Jesus?", to which my reply is usually, "Sure, do you know about Krishna?" I used to say, "Sure, do you know about Satan?" until I realized that people who want to tell you about Jesus are usually equally thrilled to tell you about Satan, while usually completely ignorant of every other religion. These people must be stopped.)

I did not know about Smoochies and was informed that it is a kind of tasty, all-natural ice cream with no lactose, no fat, and few calories. It is manufactured by magical elves in the land of Smoochiestan. I sampled a Smoochie and discovered that it is not bad, although it has the consistency of air.

The most unusual thing about Smoochies was the gentleman who waited on us, a part-owner of the franchise, who said that he thought my friend and I knew all about Smoochies, giving the final word a lascivious emphasis. We were unable to determine whether he thought we were lovers (we are not) or was implying that we were each so desirable that we had been given many Smoochies in the unspecified past (which is true but none of his business).

Either way, if someone is going to open an establishment called Smoochies, it behooves him to not use the trademark to sexually harass his customers. Either that, or get it out of your system while the bloom is still on the rose because it is going to be an awfully tired joke after the first week or so.