Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Letters I've Been Meaning to Write

It may appear that Decadence took the summer off from blogging...when in fact she has been writing letters. Some short and sweet. Some strongly worded, and also short.

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Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Dear Vicki, NeNe, Tamara, Sheree and Danielle, 
(the neighborhood stray cats)

-Stop sneaking though the rip in my side screened in porch, and being unable to find your way out, howling endlessly by the door to my living room.

-You are no longer allowed to lay on your back, spread-eagle under my car while I am not looking.

-Do not creep into my yard thinking I will talk sweetly to you, pet you or feed you; I will only yell at you in whatever arbitrary housewife name Fancy and I assigned you with malice and contempt.

-You are lucky I do not own the paper noise poppers that make burst to life when thrown at the ground.

-I am dangerously close to collecting (humane) traps to catch you and then hand deliver you to whatever feline rehab treatment centers are nearest my house where you can make cat friends and tell them about the cat-related horrors you have seen at the House of Decadence. I've handled cats like you before. Just ask Papas Fritas Numero 1-47 of Athens, GA.

I don't hate cats, I hate stray cats that are stupid and clingy,
DLB




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Stock apology letter to the following toilets:

Metropolitan Museum of Art
Quiznos
Riverbend Club Apartments
Subway
Kellogg Building, Florida State University
Strozier Library, also FSU
Secret toilet at several local nameless high schools
Many nameless others...


Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Dear (Fill in from list above),

I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry. I did it on purpose. It had to be done.

Get a new job,
DLB



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Thursday, May 6, 2011
Dear Silversun Pickups, 

Please stop.

Best wishes in your respective future non-musical careers,
Decadence Brown


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Every day of 2011
Dear Decadence,

WHY would you set a new year's resolution to count every bridge you travel over in a year...and then stick to it?! You are torturing my life.

Let's agree to ban new year's resolutions next year,
DB aka Dumpster Baby


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Thursday, June 16, 2011

Captain's Log:


The Apocalypse may be upon us.

The air inside the house smells of smoke.

Ash falls from the sky like a drizzling rain.

The outside air burns the eyes on contact. The smoke is everywhere. Where once one could see down the street, now there is only a gray haze with barely visible outlines of what once was.


Driving over bridges is much like propelling one's self into an unknown abyss. 

Although the temperature is in the upper 90s, the beach has the gray, foggy look of a cold winter's day.

The conditions have been this way for days on end. 

I rarely watch the news as I prefer to speculate about my surroundings. I am working on this, but there is only so much time in the day and speculating takes a great deal of time. 

In this case, however, I reviewed a bit of news and it turns out there are multiple fires currently burning in south Georgia and north Florida. 

When living in smoky conditions such as this, it is at first annoying and smelly. Then you realize that you haven't seen that beautiful clear blue Florida sky for days and you miss what you so often took for granted. Then you start to wonder if it will ever clear up, as the conditions only get worse with each passing day. 

A torrential downpour of rain, complete with thunder, lightning and tree-toppling wind does not leave a lasting effect on the smoke invading all life.

This is not the time to become despondent. 

Once you resign yourself to the idea that this is not, in fact the end of the world, you can take necessary precautions and then take a bit of time to view it in a new light aside from its negative effects.

On occasion, I silently pretended that I was walking through a post-apocalyptic world, discovering new territory and remains. I looked at the world anew. I imagined that I had never before been to this strange world of smoke and haze.

I asked myself, "What is that just our of sight? A person walking this way? Nothingness? A building? Steaming remains of what once was?"


At the beach, the horizon line was not visible, nor was the rest of the beach beyond 300 yards. It was as if we stood on an isolated spot of water and sand, all to ourselves. Strange and magical.



It was during this time and the questioning mindset that I found myself living in the moment. It felt as if we were in a living memory where none of the images or forms were clear. So many things appeared just out of reach or just out of our control...a lucid dream of sorts.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
Today we have relief from the smoke, tomorrow may be different. The fires continue to rage, so it is likely that our smokey world will persist for a time. In the meantime, I will-and encourage you to do the same-amuse myself with the occasional thought that undiscovered remains exist just beyond my sight behind a blanket of gray haze.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

The End of an ERA


ENTRY PASSWORD CLUE:

This dog was the Lassie of the 20s, featured in movies and radio serials.

This dog reappeared in a television series several decades later.


Thursday, May 19, 2011

Build-a-Bear workshop updates I have; the time, I do not..

I'm committing to one more short post before a real whopper is presented for your pleasure...

With no better way to lay this out, here's an unnumbered list:

I get a lot of e-mails from build-a-bear workshop. I'm not exactly sure how they got my personal information, but I suspect foul play. Because of this foul-play, I am immediately apprised of any new product/animal/theme/special/color option/feature as it is coming in off of the truck.
This beach bunny may or may not be available...

Thank you build-a-bear workshop. I will make sure to pass this pertinent information along to whoever I suspect signed me up for the pleasure of knowing your business.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lately I have been completely confused as to what day of the week and/or in the month that it actually is. This is not entirely unique in my life, but the occurrence of this has reached a new extreme-one that creates excitement followed by disappointment followed by a mix of anger, confusion and usually a fit of silent laughter.

For example, I woke this past Monday morning thinking time had advanced an entire week. I thought it was the 23rd and went into a bit of panicked excitement. A moment later I realized it was actually the 16th. An ease settled over me that I hadn't completely lost a week, but was then sad thinking that I was suddenly one more week away from summer vacation.

The following Wednesday brought the certainty that it was actually Friday. More excitement followed by disappointment. As for today, I have no idea what day it is.

This problem has been compounded by the stoppage of my watch battery.
My watch stopped Tuesday afternoon at 7 til 3. The realization of this took 4 and a half hours. These 4 and a half hours did not pass due to my not looking at the watch. I looked at my watch multiple times. Apparently every time I looked at my watch, I was just going through the motions of looking at my watch rather than actually registering what time it was. If I did register the time, I only went with the minute hand.

This came in handy for arriving just in time for happy hour (as I thought it was 7 til 7), but not so much when determining the time after the sun had set.

As the next few weeks pass, I am confident that my brain will continue to turn to mush (clearly it has progressed far in this process already). 

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I both fear and look forward to having time off this summer. Your benefit will be a much more active blog. My benefit will be an ever-expanding waistline and dwindling bank account.

Be forewarned: if you receive informational e-mails about the inner-workings of build-a-bear workshop, you are suspected of foul play.

Monday, May 16, 2011

UPDATE: Bridge Count MMXI

YES

I am still counting bridges.

In fact, I am counting the shit out of bridges (eh hem, pardon the language)

It is tough work. I have to constantly be on my toes, counting toes. Do you realize how easily I fall asleep in cars?! Especially rocking Judyth down the highway during the 3:00pm slump?! Where are those Emerald Nuts when you need them?

I reached the 5000 bridge mark over the weekend. So: woo.

Counting bridges is exhausting, tedious, and entirely pointless-but I. AM. DOING. IT. Even on road trips to Athens, Georgia and beyond.

Here are a few pictures that I risked my life to take so as to document the bridge counting...

Here's a particularly sinister bridge that did not want to be counted...
As it tried its best to hide from view completely.
Main Street Bridge, not counted on this occasion; only because in this moment, I was not driving/walking/biking over it.
Off in the distance: the Fuller Warren Bridge, also not counted on this day. I drive over it most days. Some evenings the lights of the city seen from this bridge draw me in and try to take me over the side of said bridge. Luckily, I have resisted thus far...
View of the Acosta Bridge and a train bridge not yet travelled.
Atop the Acosta Bridge on a grueling bike ride.
Ok there are obviously more pictures to include, but I'm afraid that this is reaching a red flag point where I am giving the idea that Decadence is obsessed with bridges in an unhealthy way. She is not, promise.

She is however obsessed with counting and driving over bodies of water.

Happy bridge navigation, people.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

A Feast for the Eyes

So April was a lax month for Decadence in terms of sending new and old stories through the blog, but rest assured it's been an active month in the life of Decadence (which in turn creates more stories to tell).

Sorry, I'm not sorry.

To satisfy your thirst for more...here is a picture log of the days Decadence has spent while not posting new material:
Fortunately this man is not in 
Decadence's kickball league.


~|~ Decadence has been playing kickball as a part of the well known: "Growler Girls" on the team the Rubba Bustas. Not to be confused with the Rubber Busters which might suggest something less than pure.

Responsibilities of being a part of "Growler Girls" include, but are not limited to:

-Bringing a growler of brewery fresh beer to the field
-Outrageous and unannounced dress-up parties
-Dominating the kickball field
-Flip Cup
-Setting the dance floor ablaze
-Being the source of obscene amounts of noise
-Heckling


~|~ Recently, while at a beachside establishment,
Decadence came across an alarming sight:

BARBIE ORGY
The toys of our youth can't even keep it G-rated...




Penthouses of local skyscrapers have recently become a frequent hangout...
The view from the top...of the world

Decadence has been gaining entry into the most exclusive of VIP sections
This one only allowed the patron to visually enter the VIP section,
something only Decadence was able to do

Decadence only drives a dawn. It's really the worst way to travel, the sunrise constantly urges her to stare versus watching the road.
This day she appeased it by snapping a shot of it in place of staring.

Of COURSE Decadence spies on her neighbors under the guise of a "Neighborhood Watch"
This neighbor, a particularly unique individual, chooses to water his
absurdly large front yard garden with urine.

In Decadence's line of work, she comes across many situations that one could only handle in the moment. Rather than create the necessity to visualize these situations by giving you descriptive text, here is a picture splash:

Chair throwing
Brief periods of quiet, interrupted by the sounds of this guy
The ever escalating food fight, ending in tears and bloodshed
Ginger wall scaling
Decadence also employs snake charming techniques to gather the crowds at work as well as distract others from the pandemonium going on around them




~|~ After days like that it may be easy to see that in order to counteract the madness, she must find and run with a wild, but elite crowd...the likes of which are pictured here

Although Decadence and friends have much less conflict than this zoo crew


Ultimately, this is to prevent a general freak-out, because alas...
There's never any time.

Decadence promises that May will be a more active story-telling month in blog land. 
Deuces 

Monday, April 11, 2011

Big Bad Botulism

Decadence fears little. The assumption that the things she does fear are irrational, would be on point. 


As mentioned in A Decadent List of Grievances, as a child Decadence had a strange fear of large patches of mud for fear the MudMan would grab her shoe, foot, ankle or entire leg. At least he might according to the warning Father Brown gave Decadence time and again when nearing patches of mud while walking through Atlanta parks.

Decadence has since overcome this fear...at least 90% of it. 

Perhaps Decadence's most crippling fear is that of botulism. Food botulism, not Botox botulism-although Botox is not an option for Decadence as her age progresses. Actually, strike that, Decadence does not age.

Just as her fear of the MudMan has roots in her childhood, so does her fear of botulism. The fear of botulism and/or botulism poisoning is far more serious than the MudMan fear ever was. This fear is far-reaching and at times has affected Decadence's life in a negative way. It is a pervasive and persistent fear…the features of this fear may in fact make it a borderline phobia.

As a child, and usually while reheating leftovers, Mama Brown would tell Decadence of the time when distant family members ate leftovers for dinner. This particular dinner contained corn. Specifically under-cooked corn. Mama Brown warned of the grave dangers in not boiling corn when it is reheating. "ALWAYS make sure that the leftovers containing corn are so hot they boil" she would tell young Decadence. "Boiling kills the bacteria." 


Case and point: the family member preparing the food for these distant relatives did not boil the leftovers properly. As a result, the entire group was poisoned by the botulism lurking in the sub-par reheated corn and all almost died from the poisoning. Luckily they arrived at the hospital just in time to counteract the botulism poisoning.
Mental image of corn for young Decadence
Decadence wondered, "does this 'botulism' show signs of its presence? Does it smell?" Decadence never asked these questions of her mother; she simply pondered silently. It seemed that there was no way to know other than to boil leftovers. 

Decadence later learned that botulism often finds its way into canned goods. Somehow Decadence missed the detail that it was much more of a problem in the past due to home canning methods and not those employed by modern times. Instead Decadence assimilated  the idea of this danger, resulting in her associating the botulism danger to all canned goods and feared that she was at risk every time canned vegetables were presented for her consumption.
Silent, but deadly
"Have these vegetables been boiled?!" she would wonder in a state of internal hysteria. "It would be rude and wasteful not to eat them." The weight of the potential danger as well as the knowledge of it were daunting. 

She constantly found herself in a two-part struggle:
-to eat or not to eat
-to warn others, not to warn others, or run from the table in a hair-pulling, arm-flailing, screaming fit
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Somehow Decadence made it to college away from home. During her second year, her fear experienced a breakthrough.

Her roommate, who will be referred to as "Mo-licious" was also a teammate on the college soccer team. One afternoon before practice, Mo-licious opened a can of sweet peas. Mo-licious decided to forego heating the peas in order to save time and dirtying a bowl. 

Instead she dipped her fork into the can of peas, blissfully unaware of the impending danger.

Decadence, witnessing what could potentially be her roommates final moments, knew she had to act quickly.

Decadence ran and jumped directly at her roommate from across the small dorm room, screaming "NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" 


When she reached Mo-licious, she attempted to hit the deadly botulism can out of her unsuspecting hand. Luckily Mo-licious had cat-like reflexes and pulled the can out of Decadence's reach.

Mo-licious returned Decadence's look of panic with an expression of bewilderment and surprise:

Mo-"What is wrong with you?!"

DB-"You canNOT eat those!"

Mo-"Why not?"

DB-"You didn't heat them! You have to boil canned vegetables to kill the botulism or you could die!"

Mo-"What the hell are you talking about?! I eat peas out of the can all the time!"

DB-"What? You aren't worried about botulism?"

Mo-"Seriously. What are you talking about?"

DB-"My mom told me that you have to boil canned vegetables to kill the botulism and bacteria, otherwise you could get really sick and die."

Mo-"I promise I eat canned vegetables like this all the time. I have never gotten sick and I have no idea what you're talking about."

DB-"Oh. Sorry."

Decadence had some reevaluating to do. She clearly had not done her research on this fear. 

Also it was abundantly clear that she had missed out on a world of food. As such, Decadence began eating her canned vegetables without boiling them. 
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Decadence continued however to fear leftovers and previously opened canned goods, i.e. spaghetti sauce.

For an example of Decadence's fear of left-over consumption, review the previous post: Staycation Cleanup.

Most recently, Decadence spent 20 hours convinced that the spaghetti sauce she used on her spicy red pepper noodles might be the end of her reign on Earth.

Decadence's first warning that something may be amiss was the popped out sauce lid...on both bottles of spaghetti sauce. (Decadence likes to mix the marinara and alfredo sauces together, it's more decadent this way.)
The fact that this was the label on the jar should have also
been a red flag, bad spaghetti sauce indeed
Not wanting to waste the delicious noodles she had just prepared, as they were the last of her noodles, Decadence poured her favorite sauce combination.


Pouring the sauce, Decadence thought: "Should I boil this sauce? I never have before-this time it seems risky not to... Hmm, maybe this is a bad idea, but maybe I'm just being paranoid."


Then the botulism fear began to rear its ugly head.
Botulism fear looks strangely like Al Pacino
The fear told her:
-"You could be eating botulism infested sauce right now."
-"Each bite could take you one step closer to death's door."
-"You might want to call someone."


The pace of her eating slowed as she realized that she was the only person home. She then realized that after only a month in a new city, the only 2 people she knew were her 2 roommates. Where were they anyway? 


She put the pasta down and pulled out her computer.


Google screen. Search: Botulism


Search: How long does spaghetti sauce stay good


Search: Symptoms of botulism poisoning 


This did not look good.


Lucky for Decadence, her first roommate in grad school was a dietetics graduate student and she now lived a couple of hours away (we shall call her KayPay). "She'll know what to do," Decadence decided. 


Decadence called her dear, long lost roommate.


After some panicked explanation of the current situation, Decadence and KayPay searched from their respective homes for various combinations of situations that may arise from eating bad spaghetti sauce.


KayPay asked if the sauce smelled funny. "No, replied Decadence, "but that doesn't rule out botulism poisoning!"


KayPay, after a year of living with Decadence was aware of her fear and in being around Decadence's fear, had slightly adopted a similar feeling about the potential danger in keeping food too long-although she was open about her misunderstanding of what Decadence's fear contained. Clearly KayPay knew about foods, health, and the like, but to her Decadence's fear seemed odd and misplaced.


Nevertheless, the situation escalated. The two decided that Decadence should stop eating the spaghetti (which she finished during the escalating conversation), and "wait it out."


KayPay: "Basically you have 24-36 hours to live if you ingested botulism. This means we will know by tomorrow afternoon because you will either get really, really sick or you won't. If you start to get really sick, it's probably too late. So, just call me tomorrow at 12 noon and no later. By then we'll know if you're going to make it or not."
I'm afraid I have bad news, you may or may
not die in the next 24-36 hours
Not comforting words, but having a plan seemed to help. Ahh-who am I kidding, it didn't help at all. Decadence was panicked. Her current roommates came home and got to hear all about her botulism fear.


Decadence managed to sleep through part of the night and made it, albeit nervously, through the day. At noon, her fears had not subsided, but by noon the following day, she sensed she had made it through the danger zone.


Decadence dared not laugh about the incident until a week later when she knew that she had not been exposed to any potentially botulism-infused foods, and even then it was cautious, shifty-eyed laughter.
Always watching for the next botulism attack
Moral of the story: Watch your food and take inventory of your roommates fears.


Also-to dispel some myths about botulism click here, just in case you share Decadence's fear.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Staycation Cleanup

The day after the bachelorette staycation involved much more mystery than perhaps any other day in the realm of staycations.

At the close of the previous post, one DEWG member and the bachelorette had retreated to the DEWG member's apartment-about 15 yards from the apartment of Decadence. One DEWG member was curled up in the floor of the living room rocking herself back and forth in the fetal position asking repeated, to no one in particular: "Where am I?" The other two DEWG members were nuking all food items they could find in the refrigerator.
The staycation slumber party was not your usual slumber party
Now you're caught up. Or you could stop and take this time to read the previous post: Staycation Shenanigans.

A few short hours later, the ladies awoke mysteriously at the same time...all three were in Decadence's queen size bed. Fancy and Decadence were on the outsides of the bed, under the covers. The third, more petite DEWG was in the middle, on top of the covers and shivering.

Fancy first: Fancy was on the side of the bed by the wall, under the covers and dressed in normal sleeping attire gathered from Decadence's dresser.

Middle, petitie DEWG: Laying on top of the covers, still donning her beads and top from the night before with an additional t-shirt on top of the ensemble. This DEWG had changed out of her pants and underroos from the previous night and replaced them with Victoria's Secret's version of "granny panties," something Decadence thought she had long since thrown away.

Last but not least, Decadence: Decadence awoke face-down under the covers on the side of the bed facing the rest of the open room. When she awoke she first realized that the middle DEWG was laying on top of the covers and on top of 3/4 of Decadence's body. Decadence was still in her top from the bachelorette party, but was immediately aware that she was wearing nothing else.

Fancy appeared to have fared the nap well. The middle DEWG was in pain from the beads and from the granny panties that were several sizes too big for her. Decadence felt exposed and awkward (as she was laying on her stomach, she could see her pants from the night before strewn on the floor by the bed...but where were her undergarments?).
One can easily see why the petite DEWG might
experience pain...just imagine the chaffing
 
Sleepy sleepless groaning ensued as each awoke. Shifting followed as the littlest DEWG realized she was laying on top of Decadence.

The following questions were posed and some were answered...in no particular order:
Q: Why are you on top of the covers?
A: I couldn't figure out how to get under the sheets!

Q: (To self) Oww! Why does my neck hurt?!
A: Oh, I'm still wearing my beads from last night.

Q:When did we go to bed?
---insert sound of crickets chirping

Q: Whose underwear am I wearing?! These things are HUGE!
A: Those are mine, but I could have sworn I threw those things away YEARS ago!
subsequent Q: Where did you find them? Did you search through boxes under my bed to find those?
subsequent A: I don't know, but I am in pain!

Q: Umm, guys, I don't seem to have anything on from the waist down. Did I streak through the apartment bottomless?
A: (both responded) I have no idea.
---response-Well, at least there's that. I'm going to need you two to keep your eyes closed while I find something to put on.
---subsequent response from both-No problem.

The missing underwear was found several yards away in the bathroom, which posed the question: how much running around did Decadence do between the bed, bathroom, and perhaps around the apartment when the underroos were in the bathroom and her pants were by the bed? This mystery has never been solved.

Soon the trio emerged from their resting place and were dressed ready to tackle a breakfast of champions: Steak and Shake.

Upon entering the living room, however...
Stray cats had invaded the apartment of Decadence
upon smelling the nuked 30 day old hot beef...
Thankfully, no, this did not actually happen, but what they thought would be a normal day spent in hungover stupor would become a day fit for Sherlock Holmes.
Fantastical puzzled bewilderment was the expression/look of the day;
sans pipe and experiment beakers
Just as the trio entered the living room, Fancy and Decadence were discussing the deliciousness of the re-heated burritos they enjoyed a few short hours ago. The petite DEWG stated, "I don't even think I went in the kitchen last night, guys."

The trail of feathers from her feather boa suggested otherwise. Decadence and Fancy had removed their feather boas as soon as they came in the apartment the night prior. For the third DEWG, it was clear that she wore hers throughout the night's events and it shed the entire time.

Judging from the trail of feathers, not only had the petite DEWG visited the kitchen, she had run multiple laps between the living room, the kitchen and Decadence's bedroom. Perhaps she was training for an obstacle course race.

While Fancy and the other DEWG searched for their purses and phones, Decadence inspected the kitchen. One to-go box was on the countertop, one was missing. Also on the counter was a large empty plastic container that had once housed crock-pot hot beef/stew leftovers. This meal was originally cooked at least 30 days before the current shenanigans and had yet to be disposed of.

One thing you should know about Decadence: she has an irrational fear of botulism poisoning. This can be traced back to the story Mama Brown used to tell Decadence about distant family members that were almost killed due to consuming undercooked corn. Since hearing this story as a young girl, Decadence has transferred this fear of botulism to associate any foods that have been sitting for more than 4 days as potentially containing the deadly poison.

As such, Decadence was convinced that these undisposed of leftovers contained botulism. Upon seeing the container empty and no sign of the leftovers anywhere in the apartment, Decadence went into a tailspin. Trying her best not to scare the others with her reaction at the seriousness of the situation, Decadence questioned the two other DEWG members. Neither remembered heating, handling or eating the leftovers.

Decadence came to the following series of conclusions:
-Someone ate these leftovers.
-There's no way Decadence ate them, even if she was drugged, she would never have eaten those leftovers-per her irrational fear.
-Someone will die today.

Decadence tried to drive the severity of this situation home to the other DEWGs, but they would hear nothing of her warning. All looked close to death for other reasons and omitted stench from their pores, so the argument could be made that the potentially ingested leftovers should be the last of their concerns.

Meanwhile, the search for phones proved successful. The search for purses, wallets, check cards was not so successful. The breakfast trip would also be a trip back to the Palace Saloon for car, purse and check card retrieval.

On the way out of the front door, Decadence made one last look in the corner of the room and behind the couch. Bingo. One purse found, complete with a receipt where the signature line had been blacked out via zig-zag scribbling.

With this success...on to Steak and Shake:

This picture perfectly illustrates the Steak and Shake breakfast experience.
Next to the Palace: Fancy's card was retrieved with only a $10 charge posted. The third DEWG's purse was retrieved here without the card-turns out hers was back at the apartment after all. A short chat later, the petite DEWG hopped in her car and led the caravan back to Alumni Village where she and Fancy lived.  
It's a classy establishment, if you love to live in fear.
This man lives there. He holds
many ornate parties for
children.

This man escaped prison, immediately fled to
Alumni Village, and was arrested there.















This woman is not deterred and allows her children to live and play there, unattended.
The rest of this day was spent watching Lifetime movies on the couch and floor of the petite DEWG's apartment, while Decadence feared the moment when one of the DEWG would drop dead and another DEWG texted Scabtoes.

Both Scabtoes and the DEWG member were under the notion that they had shared a romantic moment the night before, and it was arranged that Scabtoes would come to the apartment of Decadence (neutral ground for the DEWG member) and watch Billy Elliot later that afternoon.
Billy Elliot should have been a bit foreboding as it is likely that as a dancer,
Billy Elliot also had scabs for toenails.
The DEWG members converged on the apartment of Decadence. Scabtoes arrived (it was in this meeting that the presence of scabs in place of toenails on this person's feet was realized.)

As one would, Scabtoes assumed that this was furthering the romantic connection. The DEWG member thought otherwise and the love was short lived.

A month later Fancy and Decadence returned to the Palace Saloon for a friend's birthday celebration. All of the regular patrons knew their names immediately. The lady-duo was unable to reciprocate. This visit proved to be almost as dramatic of a night as the previous visit had been, minus the romance and bachelorettism. Scabtoes was present, but it was this night that a Palace Saloon patron enlightened them about one final mystery:

It was not Scabtoes who made a romantic connection with one of the DEWGS, it was one of the bartenders. "Foiled again!" Thought the DEWG who may or may not have been present this night...

This has very little to do with the aftermath, but I like where they're going with this message.
Unaddressed issue: The rancid meat was never actually consumed. It was found in the missing to-go container 30 hours later, still in the microwave...

Crisis averted.