talk

Who is this "Bob Fongool" all my Italian friends keep talking about? They're always pissed off when they talk about him too. He must be a real dick.

awkward

When broaching one particular awkward subject with children, there are two trains of thought:

1. Sit down with them and have a frank if not uncomfortable discussion, or...

2. Do what my parents did and avoid the subject at all cost, letting them pick up all the shocking details off the so called "streets", or by watching nature documentaries and allowing the child to come to the realization on their own, that the world is not some "magical" place and in fact mom and dad have been "doing it" all along,

So, I really believe option #2. Let them figure out that mom and dad have been the ones puting out the Easter candy every year and the Easter Bunny isn't real.

Oh yeah... for where do babies come from... just leave the parental filter off the computer and go to Florida for the weekend. HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!

who

Why is it that friends think they are doing you some kind of favor when they ask you to house sit:

"Hey Rich, how would you like to come over to vacuum the rugs and clean up the cat shit while we spend a week in Florida?"

Wow, run to your place before going to work, bring in your mail, check up on the alarm on my way home, AND get to clean up feces too? Who could say no?

collection

There having a talent show at work. And since they've told us that we're responsible for our own morale, it somehow reminds me that they had a band at Auschwitz. But anyway, since balding and the ability to produce copious amounts of cellulite and body odor, all while juggling work, home, and Internet porn viewing aren't considered by the snobbish and effete public as actual "talents", I don't think I'll be entering this year. Hmmm, maybe next year I could show them my wart collection. I've already got a pretty good head start.

...Oh yeah, I almost forgot. One of the ladies I work with, the actual woman I referred to in a previous blog, told me the other day that she was an ewok, the tall dark ewok, in Return of the Jedi. I guess that explains why she bows down to the fax machine and does a little "glub glub" dance every night at sunset. Just kidding. Really my inner uber dork thinks, hell who am I kidding? I think, it's fucking awesome!

feel

I've finally come to that point in life where I need to admit, and learn to live with my limitations. If only I had been honest a long time ago I could have spared myself years of unnecessary pain, discomfort, and episodes of near panic. So here goes: My bladder is one size smaller than the medium diet Coke they sell at the movie theater. Whew. I feel better now.

always

Myspace just informed me that apparently, I'm following Scarlett Johansson. Does she know about this? The truth is, I wouldn't be caught dead with a someone like her, and would rather be slowly ripped apart by rats while being dipped in a giant vat of acid, than have sex with a woman who looks like that. Oooh wait... I always get that backwards.

explain

In this world, there are some walls of substance and thought, that are built of such mighty and impenetrable granite, that all the tools of diamond edge or sequential and irrefutable logic ever conceived by mortal man, can make not a perceivable, even if microscopic, scratch in the seamless infinite expanse of it's crag-ed aged surface. In other words: As GOD is my witness, I will never again attempt to explain to my elderly parents what "wide screen" TV means.