MOVING PAST THE PENNY.

Are we still living in a world where the value of something has to be broken down to the hundredth of a dollar? Was my pasta and Dr. Pepper today really worth $8.07? No, it was worth $8. Maybe $8.25. Let's start rounding to the nearest quarter. Then I wouldn't sound like the jingle-jangle man stomping around with ninety-three goddamn cents in my pocket.

The penny was invented during a time when a dollar was worth a lot; when spending a whole dollar on something was a real investment. You used to be able to buy a beer at the saloon with a nickel. Now a beer costs five dollars. So do the math. In today's world, five dollars = an old-time nickel. Meaning one dollar = an old-time penny. Meaning one penny today = fucking worthless.

I'm pretty sure we could figure out a fair value for everything on earth--a value that doesn't involve nickels, dimes or pennies. Except for candy.

You probably would still have to price individual pieces of Laffy Taffy or Bazooka Joe gum at $.05. You'd just have to buy a minimum of five. Problem solved.

IRAQI RAMBO.

Today I watched the movie trailer for the new Rambo movie, John Rambo. And can I say, holy shit. As if we need more of this shit. I like a good war machine movie as much as the next guy; give me a gritty ApocolypseNow-Platoon-Full-Metal-Jacket-Band-of-Brothers, guns-blazing, hero-making action adventure. But watching this and thinking of the other Rambo films made me think, holy shit. Holy shit, isn't it amazing how we can cheer for an American who goes in and slaughters some foreign soldiers we know nothing about.

Imagine if other nations could rival the talent and resources we have in Hollywood. What kind of movie would they make in the Middle East? I can tell you the plot:

Iraqi Rambo lives with his family in a war-torn area; we watch as he struggles to make a living. Americans bomb his village repeatedly, claiming to be hunting terrorists. When Iraqi Rambo's daughter is killed in a fire-fight, his teenage son tries to raise awareness. He takes his story to American journalists, provoking the ire of the military. But before the story breaks, he's abducted by US troops and taken to a secret island base where terrorists are held without trial.

Now Iraqi Rambo is angry. There had been all sorts of tails about abductions, but Iraqi Rambo had kept his nose out of it. No need to stir up trouble. His daughter was killed. He forgave. But now they have taken his son? No sir.

Iraqi Rambo flies to Cuba, the home of this alleged base. After scouting out the area, he recruits a few locals to help him rescue his son. Against all odds, he wages war on his son's captors. He heroically slaughters dozens of American boys men in gruesome fashion (reference John Rambo preview). And in the end rescues his son and some other local boys, leads them out of Cuba and back home, where they're happily reunited with their families.

Ah yes, Iraqi Rambo, I'm sure he would be a big hit here. Consider this my copyright notice. Warner Brothers? Paramount? Anyone?

KNOCK KNOCK.

I generally hate user-created videos on YouTube. But after having a discussion about knock-knock jokes, I stumbled upon this gem. Enjoy, or don't.



"...and the priest is my dad and he's not a priest..."

“Conflict Resolution” Seminar - Second Session

That was the title of an e-mail I received today at work. This was the content:

"Due to the high number of requests we have added a second session of Conflict Resolution.

On June 7th, [place of employment] will be presenting a seminar on Conflict Resolution presented by our EAP providers. This session will start at 2:30 pm and last for one hour in the 2nd Floor Conference Room. Snacks will be served.

Seminar Overview

In this interactive session the topics discussed include learning to manage opposition, conflict clashes, discord and disagreements which are critical skills for personal and professional success. In order to best develop these skills you will also learn your personal conflict resolution style.

Focus Points:

What is conflict
Characteristics of Conflict
Responses to Conflict
Personal Attitudes Toward
Dimensions of Conflict
Effective Ways to Handle Conflict
Problem Solving
Communication Rules

If you are interested in attending please respond to this email. Seating is limited, responses will be accepted on a first come, first serve basis."

My immediate response was to copy it and paste it into this blog. My second action was to read it through again and try to understand what it's all about. Could there really be that many people who can't resolve conflict on their own; so many that they needed to schedule a second class? Could there really be that many people who think going to a class will actually make them proficient at dealing with other people? This is shit you should have learned in the class called The Last Twenty Years Of Your Life. I'm considering taking the class just to see exactly who in my company qualifies as "a huge pussy."

There's only one logical reason I can see for sending out this e-mail:

Fire anyone who replies asking to sign up.

When they walk in to the meeting, hand them a box and a note that says pack your shit and get out. Then we'll see what their "personal conflict resolution style" is. That, my friends, is conflict resolution class.

THE FURY AND THE PROFESSOR.

"When he's mad, nobody in the world can stop him. He was mad. He was pissed off."
-Richard Hamilton on Rasheed Wallace

It's just plain fun to watch.

In unrelated news, my brother is now a full-time professor. Congratulations on being the world's first Professor Therkalsen.

SPACE.

Courtesy of The Hawk:

"This is perhaps the most confounding issue I've ever thought about in life, ever.

Universe to Disappear From View?

My major question always is... if the universe is EVERYTHING... how is it expanding? Think about that for 5 seconds w/o your head hurting, I dare you."

Alien head...in your head...that guy knows what I'm talking about.

MORE WORDS OF WISDOM.

Until last week, I'd never really heard Tommy Lasorda speak. This is a classic mix of his press conferences. Not for children.



The man really, truly has no filter.

WORDS OF WISDOM.

This morning on the train I had a little knowledge dropped on me by a crazy man with a crazy beard and a crazy cane. As a girl sat down near him, he turned to me and said:

(please read in crazy-man voice)

"Look at that pretty girl. She looks pretty good for being retarded. (pause) Never met a pretty girl that wasn't retarded. (pause) Never met a pretty girl that wasn't a government agent. (longer pause, crazy laugh) Fashion models are too expensive."

Yes, sir, they are.

THINGS YOU SHOULD NOT DO AT THE SAME TIME.

Come on, seriously? You can't wait until you're done taking a dump to eat your Fritos? The worst part is that I work with this person. Never again can I accept a friendly Frito offer without wondering if I'm talking to the snacking shitter.

STREET-FIGHTIN MAN.

"summer's here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy."

Yes, Mick Jagger, it is. The temperature in the city reached 82 yesterday and it felt a little like summer in the afternoon. Then, as the evening wore on tempers were on the rise. While sitting outdoors and finishing the fourth of four pints, I heard behind me some shouting. Naturally, I turned around to see what the fuss was all about.

A fiery Welshman was shouting at an Italian guy, who I'll refer to as Mario. Mario was backing away as his friend--call him Luigi--was trying to separate the two. But the Welsh fellow was getting in their faces, shouting (the only word of I could decipher was "oy!"). The Welshman finally broke by Luigi, only to be greeted by a punch to the head from Mario. This stunned the Welsh, allowing the two Italians to retreat further up the street.

Once he regained his wits, the Welshman, henceforth referred to as Pedr (Welsh for rock or stone), decided on the most logical course of action: take off your shirt and charge after the two retreating Italians. When he caught them, he attempted to return fire, but was easily knocked off balance by a backpedaling Mario. Mario then dealt several close-fisted blows to turtle-on-his-back Pedr before standing up for some kicking and stomping.

Again, Mario and Luigi tried walking away. But Pedr was unrelenting. Now in the center of the street, he kept after Mario. Before long, he took a surprise punch to the jaw from the formerly peaceful Luigi. Then a punch from Mario, who continued to try and walk away. They went around the corner; luckily we had just finished our beers, so we could get up and join the following crowd. When we reached the corner, a shirtless Pedr was shouting at Mario and Luigi, who kept pushing him away. By this time I had taken my camera from my bag, set it to camcorder mode and began taping.

This, thanks to a having the wrong memory card, is all I captured. Notice the peace maker, still trying to hold Pedr back. Amazing.



It was just after this that the retreating Italians decided to stop retreating and just give Pedr what he was looking for, which was apparently ten yards of double face punching, followed by two--I shit you not--TWO flying karate kicks to the head. The fight came within a few feet of me, which would have made for amazing footage had I not been using the wrong memory card. Result, five seconds of pushing caught on tape.

After this flurry of action, Mario and Luigi, feeling they had made their point, again attempted retreat. And again Pedr gave chase. He was clearly "nothing can hurt me, not even flying karate kicks to my face" drunk. But before he could take more punches the police arrived. They corralled Pedr, talked to him for a bit and amazingly let him go. I guess they thought he had been punished enough.

Also, I apparently missed some punk rockers who dropped a giant jar of banana peppers on the sidewalk, shattering it. Without discussion, they quickly fell to their hands and knees and began eating the spilled peppers. If you live by one rule, it should be don't eat food off of New York city sidewalks. Nobody told those guys.

Welcome to summer in the East Village. Or spring. Whatever.

VERIZON RAPED ME.

Yes, it's taken me a few months to come forward, but I need to tell my story. Verizon took my trust and then violated me to the tune of $175. Here, in a letter I wrote to customer service, is the breakdown of what occurred:

Dear Customer Service,

I've written twice before and I just want to be clear about what I'm asking and saying. I left [Verizon] after I was informed it was time for my "new every two" phone credit. Common sense says "new every two" that means it's been two years since my last contract. So I switched services.

I was then informed that I'm being charged a $175 contract termination fee. Confused, I contacted customer service only to find out that "new every two" starts two months short of your actual contract date. Of course, I would have no way of knowing this, since my bills for the last year only state the day I upgraded my service (01/20/2006).

Conveniently, on the last bill--the one with the $175 charge--it lists the plan start date as 05/23/2005. I'm not contesting that's the right date; it probably is. I'm merely proposing that perhaps your tactics were misleading and unfair. It's not as if I skipped out on two years of service. I was barely a month short of fulfilling my contract. And it's not as though I purposely voided my agreement short of the end date. It was a misunderstanding.

I am willing to pay for the extra month of service I had agreed to (around $81), but if you insist on charging me the $175, I will spend $175 worth of my time badmouthing Verizon to anyone and everyone who will listen. I know that may not seem like much, but I believe that customer service and corporate responsibility still count for something.

I had been a loyal customer for some time and left on good terms, until this little $175 ambush. I'm not asking anything unreasonable, it's the principle. Anyways, I'm sure this will reach some generic customer service representative who will send me the standard "your contract started on" message, so I might as well send my check and start bitching about how Verizon was unfair to me. But on the off chance someone there has some sense, I thought I would try one more time.

Thanks.

Jim Therkalsen

So Verizon Wireless, this is where my revenge begins. Chances are I will get bored and stop posting about my bleeding anus and wounded pocketbook before I do any real damage, but I plan to spend ten minutes of each work day (because I have the time) posting my story on chat-boards. Verizon, you cocksuckingassfuckers. Eat shit.

If anyone has any suggestions on how to extact revenge on a giant corporation, please share.

THE BEST LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION.

One of my friends has the grand luck to be employed as a part-time receptionist here in New York City. Aside from answering phones and surfing the web, he is often assigned random tasks. Today one of his responsibilities was to write a letter of recommendation, from the owner of his company, for someone he's never met, to some unknown person, for some unknown reason. I submit to you--with the names changed in order to preserve anonymity--the best reference letter in the history of the world:

Dear Members of the Board,

This letter provides me the opportunity to discuss a great person, John Friendly. John has been a close personal friend of mine for years. I am the president of Billy Bossman Company in New York City. I have been in business for many years, and have worked with John for most of them.

John is a responsible and trustworthy person. We have worked together on many events such as the gloriously fabulous Name Of Event. He has contributed fantastically, as a Consultant, to all of my various and sundry tomes. I have entrusted him with the life of my firstborn son on numerous occasions and not once has said life been lost. In short, John Friendly is one of the ten best people I have ever met in my life, a handsome man, extremely well-respected by both myself and everyone that I know who also knows him in any sort of capacity. I’d take a bullet for this man, but I’m sure one of our faster mutual friends and acquaintances would be in the line of fire before me! That’s the level of love I’m talking about. Pure, unadulterated love, one human to another. This dude rocks.

I’m not actually sure what I’m recommending John for, but, believe you me, miss – you’d be a fool not to take, or to accept, or to give whatever he wants to him.

Please feel free to contact me with any questions regarding John.

Respectfully,

Billy Bossman

FIRE SOMEONE.

I'm sorry, but I was forced to watch the Brady Quinn Hummer ad again and thought posting a transcript of his testimonial would be appropriate:

"I’m Brady Quinn, quarterback from the University of Notre Dame. You know I think Hummer just offers, I think when you talk about off-roading, um you know just the overall luxury of of being able to drive, you know, sit up high feel safe. This car without a doubt exceeds every expectation I had. That is awesome."

Wow. Seriously, who at Hummer is in charge of this? I know it probably seemed like a good idea at first. Perhaps you invested a lot in the production. But when you saw this, did you honestly think it was good? At that point were you pot committed?

During the draft, when you were watching his stock fall you were probably thinking "oh crap, there goes my job." Well, if you weren't fired then, you certainly should be now for STILL running this. Put an old Hummer ad in its place, please, so I can watch ESPN clips online again.

That's the last I'll mention it.

THE DREAM.

My new job involves working on Nike's online advertising content, mostly for a project that is launching in August (stay tuned). But part of my responsibilities were supposed to involve working on the Nike Basketball and Nike Football websites, which is great since I love basketball and football. Here's the results of my first small basketball assignment--to write "Nike" summaries of the Pistons vs. Orlando and Golden State vs. Dallas playoff series.

GAME 3 & 4 PLAYOFF SUMMARIES

What I'm allowed to write is a little limiting. For example, I can't use team names, like the Pistons or Mavs or Warriors (some issue with the league). I'm also only allowed to mention Nike athletes, which isn't bad. And since they're summaries, they have to be short, so it's tough to get a lot of game action or personality into it. But hey, part of my job is getting paid to write about basketball. Can't argue with that.

Underused phrase that works good for kids:

You're not the boss of me.

No, you're not. Unless you're my boss and you're reading this. Then you are.

And here's a rule I learned today:

The Girls Never Tell Rule.

Thanks Brandy. You're a wealth of knowledge.

BRADY QUINN AND THE HUMMER DISASTER.

(AP) New York, NY - In this year's NFL draft, former Notre Dame quarterback Brady Quinn sat solemnly as he watched the Oakland Raiders pass on him with pick number one, the Lions at two, the Cleveland Browns at three, the Miami Dolphins at nine and so on and so forth. The college standout, at one time ranked as the number one quarterback in the draft fell all the way to the twenty-second pick, landing with the Cleveland Browns.

Teams unanimously cited one reason for passing on Quinn in the first round. "Did you see that Hummer commercial?" ex-Miami coach Nick Saban said, "the one that kept playing on the ESPN website during draft coverage? It was horrible. I need someone who can make good decisions; based on that abomination, I can't see anyone ever letting that kid on the field. I wouldn't even play him at Alabama, where I am now the head coach."

A Hummer spokesperson, in response to Quinn's demise, added that had they paid closer attention to their web advertising, they never would have released Brady's commercial. "It made him look like a complete jackass," an unknown source proclaimed, "and consequently made the Hummer organization look like fools for making him a spokesperson."

The Cleveland Browns, who traded up to get Brady at the end of the first round, seemed pleased. "We've had such success with our past draft picks--Tim Couch, Courtney Brown--that we felt safe ignoring the general Brady-Quinn-is-a-jackass consensus that had formed in response to the Hummer ad."

Brady Quinn studied under the heavily cheeseburger insulated Charlie Wiess at Notre Dame, where they both enjoyed numerous unwarranted blowjobs from the national media. The Browns are already looking forward to their next top five draft pick. "We'll probably take another quarterback," said team officials.

COACH MEATHEAD.

This spring I'm playing in a co-ed charity soccer league. Since I don't have a lot of friends who were interested in playing, I signed up solo and was placed on a team with a bunch of other individuals. The nice part of this is that you get to meet new people; the bad part is that some of these people suck. Not at soccer. They suck at being people.

I'm writing about this here as a substitute for sending out a super condescending e-mail to one of my teammates, who yesterday sent out this message, entitled No more losing on my watch:

"Greetings all... Just wanted to let everyone know that starting Tuesday I'm going to assume the role of "coach on the field"... This by no means will interfere with the fun factor or infringe on your preferences. It will just provide a little more structure in terms of positioning, substitutions, and strategy. I have a ton of previous experience and in the short time I've known all of you have gained some knowledge on your individual capabilities. Feel free to express your input at anytime."

My initial reaction, aside from laughter, was to ignore this e-mail. The guy who sent this is sort of a meathead, a good athlete, but by no means an exceptional soccer player. Not only was I going to ignore the e-mail, but I planned on ignoring him on the field. Another player informed Coach Meathead that his services would not be needed, to which he replied:

"Just thought I'd mention that my last e-mail believe it or not was in response to a consensus. I was addressed by several members on this team. I didn't come up with the idea on my own. I'm obviously a team player and will handle my own responsibilities and nothing more if you would prefer. I can tell you from past experience though and from what I heard last game that anarchy and indecision lead to sloppy play."

Whoa. First, several members is not a consensus. Second, who in the hell wrote to coach meathead saying, "I think we need you to coach the team?" I don't know if I'm angrier at coach meathead or the idiots who asked him to be coach meathead. Someone needs to remind these people that this is a co-ed charity team. We're playing FOR FUN. We have some players who are very good and some players who are terrible. The team has played together twice and never had a practice. There's going to be a learning curve and I can almost guarantee that there will always be sloppy play. If you want to be a coach, go find some twelve-year old kids.

Also, crybaby kneebrace guy who spends the entire post-game making excuses for why he played bad, I have news for you: it's because you are bad. Shut your mouth.

Ah, I feel better now.

WHAT MAKES PIGEONS HORNY?

It seems some pigeons live outside my bathroom window. Over the last few months I have learned that pigeons are very horny birds. Recently, I've started to notice that certain things will cause the pigeons to start making their horny noises. Here is a list of the things that seem to get them going:

1. The sound of my pee splashing in the toilet.

2. The sound of an electric shaver.

3. Me sitting quietly, going #2 and reading a magazine.

Granted, my study is limited. I don't even know if it's the same pigeon there all the time. Maybe some pigeons like the sound of my pee and others prefer the electric razor. Also, since the pigeons live outside the bathroom window, I have only been testing bathroom related things. Pigeons might like the sound of a blender or the smell of toast, but I can't confirm this.

Here are things that don't seem to turn pigeons on:

1. Brushing my teeth.

2. Taking a shower.

3. Filling up a cup with water.

WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

Here are two questions that were heavily debated Saturday night while watching the Pistons game:

1. How many oceans are there?

2. What is a fiddle?

The good news is that with my new Blackberry Pearl phone I could look up the answers on the internet. Thank god. The answers to those questions are below.








further below.












further.











here.

1. There are five oceans. Everyone agreed, but then when we tried to name them, we could only name four. Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, Arctic. Ten college graduates could not name the fifth ocean. My brother, a geography professor, could not name the fifth ocean. And here's why: Up until 2000 there were only four recognized oceans. Then the International Hydrographic Organization established the Southern Ocean, and determined its limits. Those limits include all water below 60 degrees south, and some of it, like the Arctic Ocean, is frozen. I do not officially recognize the Southern Ocean.

2. A fiddle is a violin; a violin is a fiddle. There are no differentiating features period--despite my confidence to the contrary. The only reason you'd call one instrument a violin and the other a fiddle is the approach. Someone who plays fiddle tunes, a fiddler, will address their violin as a fiddle. I'm not sure where the term "fit as a fiddle" comes from.

PROOF OF IDIOCY.

I love Netflix. On par with laundry service, it's one of the best services I've discovered since moving to New York. Today I was browsing around, adding movies to my queue and I found proof that most of America is dumb. In the Netflix Top 100 movies I found these gems:

14. Click

I like Adam Sandler as much as the next guy, but even I could see this was going to be garbage. I credit it's #14 ranking to the fact that it's still a relatively new release on DVD.

31. The Lake House

Holy crap, this looks awful. A movie "exploring a mysterious mailbox that somehow bridges time." Whoa. That sounds like a dynamite premise. Get Keanu Reeves to sign on and you've got yourself a classic.

And the crown jewel of stupidity:

38. Must Love Dogs

The reason I find this to be the ultimate proof of retardation among American consumers is this: average user rating, 2 stars; release date, 2005. 2005! That means two years later it's still in the top 50 most popular movies rented by people. That's two years of bad reviews. Two years for the "new release" lure to wear off. Here's the main point of conflict in this cinematic train wreck: "...there's just one problem: While this second eligible bachelor's ad states that his dream woman 'Must Love Dogs,' neither he nor Sarah actually owns one." Oh no! What will happen when they find out? I might rent this just to see how horrible it is.

No, I won't.

Honorable idiot mention:

11. National Treasure

15. Hitch

44. Just Like Heaven

78. RV

GETTING STARTED AGAIN.

For some reason I go through some serious lulls in writing here. It can be as little as two weeks or as long as a month. I usually think it's because I don't have anything to write about, but there's always stuff happening in the world, so that's a poor excuse. In an attempt to get rolling again, here are some things:

- Lately I have been wanting to eat more and more candy.

- Yesterday in the grocery story there was an altercation when an ESL shopper got into the express lane with OVER TWENTY items in his basket. At first I was pissed, since I only had eight. I felt vindicated when the cashier reprimanded him for trying to cheat the system. Then I felt bad when I realized that he had no idea what she was talking about. His face turned red and he kept looking at the sign above the register, then at other signs, trying to figure out what "10 items or less" meant. Hopefully he learned a lesson.

- I started a new job at an agency called R/GA. I'll be working on some of Nike's websites and interactive advertising. It should be cool, but right now I just spend most of my day staring at the computer, trying to figure out what I should be doing. My free shoes have not yet arrived.

- This morning they were filming an American Airlines commercial near my office. It's amazing how many people will stop and stare, waiting for something to happen. I watched nothing happen while I waited for my breakfast sandwich.

- There is a giant crane outside of my building. Giant cranes are pretty cool.

- Last night an older Korean man kept touching his wife's butt as they were walking down the street. She would giggle and move away, only to have him do it again when she got close enough.

- I don't know what the equivalent is for hate, but I hate people saying "I heart that," when they mean "I love that."

Pistons and Red Wings in the playoffs. Go Detroit.

THE DOG DOUCHE

You’ll find them in parks, walking down streets and sometimes in bars: The Dog Douche. A human who lacks a definable personality or likable characteristic and therefore has acquired a Substitute Personality Dog. This dog, a lovable, adorable animal, helps the human define himself in terms that other people will not find repulsive. By associating with these noble animals, Dog Douchebags assume people will think they’re also friendly, energetic and cute. After all, why would the dog be friends with some uninteresting loser?

I’m not talking about people who just love their dogs. Those people are great, their dogs are great, great great great. But you know that guy, the guy who takes his dog to the park and you can tell he’s not playing fetch for the dog’s sake. He wants someone to come pet his dog and talk to him. He’s a lonely fellow and that dog is like a person trap. He’s the guy who brings his pooch to the bar, not as a companion, but as a conversation starter. If you want to pet the dog, you have to talk to the human.

Last night I saw the biggest Dog Douche I’ve ever seen. He brought his Substitute Personality Dog (some sort of black lab/retriever mutt?) to the bar. He then began throwing popcorn in the air, causing the dog to jump up and down and run around the bar. Every time the dog would go near another human to get the popcorn, the Dog Douche would engage that person in conversation about the dog. The poor dog had no idea that it was being used as a tool, by a tool. He basically dog-raped people into having conversations with him about his dog. I don’t know if I felt more sorry for him, his dog or the people who were tricked into talking to him.

Conclusion: Dogs are better than humans.

SHEED!

Thanks to the Hawk for spotting this gem:



For comedy, after you watch it try clicking at the center of the clip over and over again. The announcers go bonkers!

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

In other news, I tried to get my glasses fixed during my lunch break and discovered that optometry shops are basically worthless. One of my ear-piece supports is about to break off, so I asked if they had a new plain black ear-stick. Zero out of three shops could help me with my request. I think if those ladies would have looked in the back or asked someone they could have done something. Am I expected to believe that they have no spare plain black things? I even told them it didn't have to match, it just has to keep my glasses from falling off of my face. But no, sorry, looks like I'll just have to get new glasses.

Another thing I realized is that along with the joy of New Phone Day comes the anxiety of having to pick a phone and a plan. Because it involves a two-year commitment my brain requires me to look at every single phone in the world before making a decision. It's slightly worse, but very similar, to the "must see every pair of shoes" problem I experience before buying shoes. But it's not nearly as bad as the "try on every pair of glasses in the world" dilemma I'll face if my current glasses break. Shoes and phones are accessories. But glasses are a part of my face. And I like the face I have on right now.

Yes! OOH! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

SOME PHRASES I LIKE.

Something you might overhear at a drinking fountain:

"Come on buddy, leave some for the fish."

A good way to ask someone if they like something:

"Does that tickle your fancy?"

I'm not sure what the origin of this phrase is, but I like it. It's probably not a very cool thing for a man to ask another man, but it's good to ask a girl. Perhaps because I can imagine what a girl's "fancy" might be and I can also imagine how I might "tickle" that "fancy."

A good word to describe something or someone crazy:

"Bonkers."

THE GOOD, THE BAD, THE UGLY.

A good movie, a somewhat obscure Kanye West track and a convenient outline for things to talk about.

THE GOOD

March Madness. Enough said.

One of the best events to occur every two years is the last official day of your contract with your cell phone service provider. I call it New Phone Day. Yesterday was that day for me. And as soon as things slow up at work I'll spend hours obsessing over which new phone to get and which new service provider to choose. The Pearl is the early leader.

Another good thing is a daily mp3 my friend Christos sends out: Christo's MP3 Of The Day. They're not all winners, but there's some great songs. Plus, they're almost all by bands I've never heard of and would never think to listen to. It’s an easy way to find new music. To be put on his list, e-mail him at christos.mp3.of.the.day@gmail.com and ask to be added.

Good use of punctuation in a statement scrawled on the wall above a urinal: Fuck you, cunt.

THE BAD

Speaking of New Phone Day, I plan on leaving Verizon. Why? Mostly because I'm not wild about their phone selection. But my decision is also based heavily on my hatred for their new commercial, which I call “The Meathead Weightlifter.” Every time I have to watch that guy talk about how the new Fallout Boy song "really pumps him up" I want to chop his head with an axe. No, seriously, I bought an axe--well, more of a hatchet--and if I see him, it's chopping time. I have to change the channel when the commercial comes on; it literally makes me hate Verizon.

THE UGLY

How about Tennessee blowing a 20-point lead to Ohio State last night? The whole second half made me want to throw up. Bruce Pearl, the human sweat factory, must be kicking himself. First, don’t blow a 20-point lead! Second, at the end of the game, with six seconds left, why not call timeout? Then you can design a play that will put the ball in your best shooter’s hands. But no, instead they settled for the wild scramble-down-the-court-and-throw-up-an-off-balance-leaping-toward-the-basket-shot, which was swatted into the stands by 40-year old Greg Oden. On top of this horrible sequence of events, I had to be sitting in a bar filled with OSU fans who were doing that awful O-H-I-O chant. I left almost immediately to avoid saying something that would have resulted in my face being punched by some shit-canned Buckeye fan. It was ugly.

That's all for now.

THIS IS WHY I'M HOT.

Mims!

Recently, I’ve been getting a lot of messages from mysterious, hot girls on MySpace. For instance, seXXie just sent me this message:

Hey there...nice myspace page.. anyways I was bored so thought Id say hi.. my M..S..N and A..I..M are on my page so chat me there..I'm trying to meet some new people (I just moved lol) . Im also new on myspace...not really use to how it works yet so if u write me back on here it may take a while for me to respond lol.. use M.S.N (my A.I.M is fucked up and freezes)... chat soon if you're interested xoxox S*a*r*a*h

Yes! S*a*r*a*h likes my MySpace page.

First, S*a*r*a*h, you’re not grammatically or punctually on my level. I actually have this strange standard where I require girls I date to not be idiots. If I send a message back, it would most likely just be correcting your whore-mouth mistakes.

Then, I get a message from CutiePiez! She sounds cuter:

H3Y BABE !!!...Cool myspace u got there.. was just browsing people who live near me and found ya..... Feel free to add me to your M~S~N or A~I~M (both are listed on my MS page..I prefer M`S`N as A'I'M freezes on me so I may not get ur messages...I jusst m0ved so try!ng to meeet sum new people.. xoxox chat soon cutie xoxoxo Sara!

Wow, she thinks my MySpace page is cool, too. I’m just rolling in the pussy. Sadly, both of their AOL chats freeze, otherwise we’d probably be having meaningful online conversations substituting numbers for letters at th1s v3ry m0ment.

Wait, her name is also Sara, but without an h? Are all porno-spam robots named Sara(h)? And if so, is there some science behind it? Are idiots more likely to think spam-porno robots are real girls if you name them Sarah? Do we all have a Sarah in our past? Maybe it’s her…