I was feeling bad about calling my car The Skunk yesterday. “It isn’t that bad,” I kept assuring myself. “It’s not a stench, really. More of a funk. A miasma, perhaps.” That’s what I was telling myself when I decided to do something I hadn’t actually attempted – I decided to drive The Skunk.

It really wasn’t that bad. Until I turned on the heater.

But let’s move on to other, more remote horrors. In the month I just spent recovering from a head injury (related to neither squirrels nor my car), lots of books and movies piled up, unread. As I play catchup, these are worthy of mention:

The Descent (original ending) which was indeed as scary as hyped, and even yuckier. I made Husband fastforward through The Scene Where Someone Needs Their Broken Leg Reset because, just…yuck. Good sound design, have to give them that.

Scott Smith’s The Ruins, which was perhaps one of the best-crafted novels of any genre that I’ve read in a while. Also yucky, come to think of it, but books don’t have sound effects so it was a different kind of yuck. It’s also made me a little paranoid about the English Ivy that’s been encroaching on the house again. That stuff is evil.

And, on a more abbreviated and topical note, McSweeney’s iPhone user’s guide, which is hilarious, and not at all yucky.