Lost in Translation
or, why I sometimes feel lonely in the 'burbs

I was at a birthday party the other day.  There was a pinata.  (It appears to have been made of diamond or steel or bronze--each child got two whacks at it before the birthday girl's father had to give in and take the business end of a baseball bat to it.)  Before the final disembowelling, one of the legs came off, and since pinata trophies were so sparse, the child who knocked it off was delighted and presented it to the birthday girl.  So I said to some of the nearby adults, "It's like a bullfight: she's awarded both ears and the tail."  And.  It.  Was.  Quiet. 

Maybe I'm just not funny, is all.