There is a term (for a band, for a song, perhaps for a touching novel containing points of view from disparate middle-aged women around the globe and how they feel deep in their hearts about the recent discovery that Georgia O'Keefe snored like a bandsaw in a bucket of bees) that I can't help but feel should be used for something, somewhere; the problem is, calling anything "Asparagus Micturation" guarantees it stinks.

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