Schmeckle

"There's no hot water," Marty said. "Now you know why no one takes a shower. Those showers will give you pneumonia. You'll have icicles hanging from your schmeckle."

"A secret Litvak with his nose in the air," is how my zaydee put it, "and his schmeckle in that shiksa queen when he's not with his whoors."

Listen to him, more nostalgia! My poor schmeckle, talk about nostalgia! It comes up once a year, like Ground Hog Day. The last time I made love was July tenth, Nineteen Seventy-One.

Kiss would continue forever if it weren’t for the inconvenient path of time’s arrow – although, as Simmons puts it, “As long as your schmeckle works, you feel immortal.”