My grandmother used to shred matchbook covers while chain smoking Belairs - creating a fringe curtain to see the matches like missing teeth. Apparently I picked up her habit (not the Belairs).
Some one's gotta dignify that saran wrapped pink styrofoam filling up the bodega aisles. Going through the carwash as a kid was the closest i ever got to feeling like Willy Wonka in the chocolate factory.