An email received at 3:04pm from my buddy John:

I never tell people that they should click spell check before sending emails, because I miss spell things all the time, but go read your blog from today over again. Christ.

First, for the record, I do click on spell-check before posting the site. Spell-check is really the only editing I do for the posts. I re-read my post from today and found some things that needed to be changed that were not misspellings, but rather words misused (for example, writing “we” instead of “were”). So the spelling isn’t the problem; it’s the grammar (there are probably still some mistakes in the post).

Second, I’d like to remind John and others who send me emails like, “Dude, it’s 3pm – where’s your post?” and “What the F? Only one post today?” that I have a full-time job. I often don’t have time to comb over what I write for grammatical errors, split infinitives, semi-colon misuse, etc. If you like, you can send me a check and I’ll gladly quit my jobby-job, sit home and write all day, posting every hour on the hour, with the most immaculate grammar you’ve ever seen. Also, I’ll make use of my time at home and adopt a child, and train the child to be an assassin, so that when the child turns 16, I can rent him out to the rich and famous to kill their enemies and we can make a lot of money, which of course will go right up my nose. After a time, at the peak of my cocaine addiction, my adopted assassin child will fall in love with a woman who I don’t approve of, a real wild-card with a fiery temper, a heart of gold, and a passion for life (played by Kirsten Dunst), and it will tear us apart, and will ultimately lead to a final showdown, the ending of which I won’t give away at this juncture.

Third, John is a douchebag and he has an STD. So there you go – I may misspell words, but at least I don’t have HPV.

I hope this post lives up to your grammatical standards. Bastard.

[By the way, the proper spelling is "douche bag". I prefer one word though.]

A boxer man, I recently bought a few pairs of boxer briefs to see what all the fuss was about. The verdict? Not for me. Boxer briefs, although comfortable, are made for guys who are in shape and have normal to large packages, not for fat guys who are hung like kittens (seriously, me naked looks like a acorn on a fur beanbag [drum fill] – thank you, I’ll be here all night). The sight of me in boxer briefs and nothing else is at once the most comical and saddest thing in the history of mankind. Trust me.

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At the risk of being labeled a Communist, does anyone else not give a fuck about Lance Armstrong? I mean, we get it – the guy is really fucking good at riding a bike. And sure, he’s in great shape, and I can’t ride a bike to 7-11 let alone through France, but enough already – we’re talking about riding a bike here. Jesus Christ. Just let me know if he wins; I don’t need to hear about it every step of the way.

God damn it.

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Dear god, if the Yankees get Randy Johnson, Boston will burn to the ground. Seriously, all those in Beantown should make preparations now, because if that deal goes through, well, I fear for the safety of my loved ones in that city. Good lord – the Yankees, who are already stacked and taking care of business as is, adding the most dominant pitcher of the past ten years to their roster? This at a time when the Red Sox are playing below expectations and Nomar is about to get run out of town, Curt Schilling’s got a bum ankle, Pedro is as unpredictable and volatile as my Uncle Tim on the drink, and Derek Lowe’s, Kevin Millar’s, and Bill Mueller’s deals with the devil just ran out?

Be afraid. Be really, really afraid.

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Apparently, it’s not a good idea to bring your I-Pod to the beach. That’s what I did with mine, and I had to dish out $40 last night to get new headphones, because I had gotten sand in mine, making them sound like Samba shakers. Who knew?

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Three songs you should really download:
1) Talking Heads “This Must be the Place (Naive Melody)”
2) Bob Marley “Trenchtown Rock” [I have a live version from "Live at the Roxy" - excellent]
3) Sam Cooke “Bring It on Home”

(Incidentally, #1 and #2 are get songs to get/be high to)

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“Anchorman” was an interesting movie, and very much worth seeing. The thing is, it’s basically a collection of skits and/or Will Ferrell being absurd, so I don’t really remember much. But I’m pretty sure that when the DVD comes out, my friends and I will be speaking only in “Anchorman” quotes for a good six to eight weeks.

My favorites:

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m kind of a big deal.”

“I’m going to punch you in the ovary – right to the baby-maker.”

“My son apparently took something called ‘acid’ and starting firing a bow and arrow into a crowd…”

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Some words phrases recently put into Google (or other search engines) that brought people to this site:

- “brother a handjob” -”he’s never”

- “hate mexicans” “italian”

- “cut my dick” war prison

- “man boobs” fat shirtless -sex

- +iverson +fuck +gay +fiction +kiss +me +dick +sweat

- embarrassing “pit stains”

- massage new york “handjob” midtown

- she gave him a telekinetic handjob

I think I should stop writing so much about handjobs.

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Inside my head:

Voice 1: “Man, we are really broke. We have got to stop spending so much money.”
Voice 2: “Why don’t we drop two large on a laptop?”
V1: “I’m listening…”
V2: “Well, one, we’re going back to school in the fall.”
V1: “That’s crap – no reason to spend all that money on a computer.”
V2: “Two, you and I both know we’re tired of masturbating in Ben’s room, especially now since there are no locks on the bedroom doors at the new place. Think about how much porn we can download onto our OWN personal computer. And it’s portable, so we can take our masturbatory fantasies anywhere!”
V1: “Sold – get Dell on the phone.”
Voice 3: “Hey, can you guys shut the fuck up? I’m trying to remember the last time we actually had sex with a living, consenting woman, and it’s pretty fucking hard.”
V1: “Sorry.”
V2: “Yeah, sorry.”
V1: [whispering] “So let’s get the computer then.”
V2: [whispering] “I’m on it – Sunrise Adams, here we come!”

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I’ve been listening a lot recently a little multi-national band called Fleetwood Mac. Yes, I know they’re corny, but the live version of “Don’t Stop” from The Dance gets me hype like no other. Seriously, I was listening to it last night while walking around my neighborhood and I got so hype I held up a convenience store. This is good news and bad news: the good news is that I got $348 out of the deal. The bad news is that I forgot that this particular grocery store is the only one in the neighborhood that carries Ben & Jerry’s “Makin’ Whoopie Pie”, and I can’t go back to this store for at least three weeks now.

Damn it all to hell.

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One thing I learned from vacation: if you take any girl, give her a tan, and put some rhythm in her hips, she will become hot. Ok, well not any girl, but you get the point. There is nothing hotter than a girl who can really dance. Conversely, there is nothing less attractive than a girl who moves like, well, me. But good lord – being in those bars down the shore and watching those tan girls gyrate – I nearly had a seizure right there. I’m still not able to fully talk about it without peeing my pants just a little bit. But the lesson: tan girls who can dance are the most wonderful beings on earth.

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Saw Bill Maher down in AC, and we had this exchange:

Me: “Hey Bill.”
Bill: “Hey.”

He was heading into a strip club while my friends and I stood in the street arguing among ourselves where to go. This begs the question: does Bill Maher gets ass from strippers when he goes to strip clubs? He’s a celebrity I suppose, but his celebrity is based on his witty comments and insights about politics. Seeing as most strippers can’t read, don’t watch the news, and think the US has a king rather than a president, is he able to pull ass? Hmmm….

I saw Bill Maher once before when I was in DC and he was having dinner with this hot Indian girl who must have been 21, tops. So he’s doing something right, but I wonder…

Any thoughts on this are welcome at the email address in the box.