It would be really weird to have a fetish for missing things. Like, “Hey baby, why don’t we turn the lights down low and lose our car keys?” Or, “What’s that, Lassie? Timmy’s lost in the swamp? Ohhhhh yes! YES!!! And an inability to find the G-spot would be sexier than actually doing so.

Personally, I lost my umbrella, and it’s a bigger turnoff than moldy jars of stomach acid… which are also a turnoff, by the way…

The point is that some sick freak out there IS turned on by these things, and so he or she or it (the Easter bunny, perhaps, or those asshole I.V. burglars) has been hiding my things for its sexual pleasure, and as soon as I find the bastard, this will stop.

Thursday’s forecast: Campus lost and found remains a little-known hookup spot.