As one might imagine, when I search for something through my numerous and varied piles and boxes and bags and crates and baskets and room-fulls of my belongings, I often run across some quite remarkable things. Now and then, they are truly amusing. More often than not, they are disconcerting beyond belief. Still, they frequently serve to distract me from the fact that I, more often than not, CANNOT locate the article for which I was originally hunting.

Here is one such “found” item:
SHE looks like a little bitch.

Regina and Clarence (pencil, date unknown)

I located this fascinating illustration in an otherwise empty sketchbook. Here’s the best part: I DREW THEM. I’ve no idea when, I’ve no idea WHY, and, most importantly, how in the hell did I decide to name then “Regina and Clarence?”

I will say this: They show far more artistic skill than this (though, I admit, that’s not saying much).

I think I may start a competition in which I reward the champion with a tin of Hungarian bacon (again – something I found amongst the debris of My Former Lifeā„¢)*. If someone can tell me WHY I have a particular found object and from WHENCE it came and WHAT it means, they win this marvelous prize.

*Okay – a tin of Hungarian bacon. I, in point of fact, recall being given this item many years ago (perhaps at a White Elephant party?), so I presume it’s not edible. Why then, one may ask, did I keep it? Oh – COME ONE – it’s a CAN OF HUNGARIAN BACON! The sheer absurdity of it necessitated saving it. Besides, one never knows when one might have a sudden and critical need for a can of Hungarian bacon, whether or not it’s unfit for human consumption.

And please, everyone, rest easy. It doesn’t appear as though the tin is in any imminent danger of bursting (it’s not even bulging – impressive!) – which, as Kate the Safety Dog, is something I dutifully considered. I shudder to think what critical wounds might be caused by an exploding can of Hungarian bacon.