So yesterday I declared that I was, indeed, an adult and avoided semi-crude comments about a photo of a man offering a hotdog. Yes, I said to myself. You've defeated 12 year old boy soul. ::sighs:: I think not, the boy-soul responded as I walked across a parking lot.

It was as though I was hypnotically drawn to these particular tires. I, who never looks at tires, was somehow FORCED to look at these. And then the snickering began.

Yes. I've already been told the brand is pronounced coo-moe. The 12 year old boy-soul doesn't care. It's still snickering.