Haiku Review: Rosebud Salve

Note: Back when I was lucky enough to advise the finest trio of student jornalists [sic] ever, one of our recurring features was the haiku review.  In honor of them, I'm bringing it back.  

Let's get one thing straight: I am a lip balm addict.  I love the stuff, and I'm on a perpetual quest for the perfect one.  Currently I use Burt's Bees, but I feel about it the way Republicans do about Mitt Romney: it's okay, I guess, but I'm certainly not enthusiastic about it.   (Burt's Bees Fantastically Fresh shower gel is another story; my devotion to it knows no bounds. And actually, it's body wash and not shower gel, but the phrase body wash grosses me out.) Enter Rosebud Salve.  I've read a bazillion celebrities raving about it in InStyle, and I finally picked some up in Sephora the other day.  It's available in a lovely, retro tin and a charmless tube; I opted for the tube because I don't want to stick my fingers in goop.  Anyway, here's the verdict:

Makes my lips feel so
Fine, unfortunately smells
Like baby diapers.

Best albums of the '90s, according a non-eminent non-music critic

I absolutely, without a doubt, indisputably am a product of the 1990s.  I love the '90s the way Baby Boomers love the 1960s--in an uncritical, hazy way that makes me quite annoying.  The '90s are, as the adage says, like sex and pizza: even when they were bad, they were still pretty good.  So, in that spirit, here's my list of the top albums of the '90s.