FIVE O'CLOCK SHADOW

Sorry about not posting yesterday readers.  I've fallen into a bit of a rut  lately, posting my pearls in the late afternoon well past that magic 90 minute span from 9:00-10:30 when everyone searches for something to read while they acclimatize themselves to the rigors of the day.  Much like shaving at night, I left myself with an unenviable dilemma; repost again in the morning and let yesterday's flowers bloom for but a moment, or, wait till they have had time to open their petals and scented the air for their allotted day (yes, I know, I mixed my metaphors, I'm open to rhetorical miscegenation).  Being lazy, I chose the latter and so the cycle continued, repeating itself like a computer following shampoo instructions (lather, rinse, repeat...).  Anyway, I finally decided it was time to break the cycle. So that's why there wasn't a post yesterday. As for why today's post is not going up till lunch time well, five o'clock, I refer you back to 'I'm lazy'. Hey, it's not like I'm getting paid for this! Well I mean technically I'm doing this while I'm at work and I'm getting paid for that so... Whatever, on to the show (Is it 'on to' or 'onto'?  it sounds like onto but on to makes much more sense, I think this is one of those situations where 'sounds right' might lead you astray).

I was walking down Broadway today and there were these two women walking down the street carrying corn stalks in shopping carts.  Not ears of corn mind you, not corn with the husk still on, friggin' whole stalks of corn.  It's like they'd just come back from visiting Ohidowa (that would be Ohio, Idaho and Iowa) and decided to take a cash crop back as a tsotchke, only we were in the middle of New York City and there wasn't an airport in sight.  What amazed me more than the stalks though was that no one else seemed to think it was odd! I mean the Children of the Corn are walking about the like Four Horsemen and not a single person in sight reacted.  I think we've become desensitized to the absurd and abnormal.  I mean, you don't even realize how odd I am anymore. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate your obliviousness, but I think you may be in danger.  For example, I was sitting on one of those wooden benches waiting for the subway the other day and this crazy dude who smelled like fermenting vomit sat down next to me. I, of course, being in possession of all five of my senses, got up and moved as far away as my olfactory receptors necessitated.  When I turned around, however, the dude who was sitting next to me was still there, only now he was having a conversation with eau de puke. I guess it's possible that he was just a nice guy and didn't want to offend another human being, but trust me on this crazy dude was CRAZY he didn't need anyone to talk to, he had a whole cast of characters he seemed to converse with on a regular basis all on his own; at least one of which should probably be on antipsychotics overweight or not.

DOES THIS STRAIGHT JACKET MAKE ME LOOK FAT?

So (some have you may have noticed that many of my posts begin with 'So' or similar derivations, before you correct my grammar, this is both acceptable and purposeful. You see, by starting with 'so' I invite you into the post; it makes it seem as if we're simply picking up a conversation we'd started earlier that had been interrupted [how rude!]. There, now you know), I was on the NY Times website today and, because I, like most of you, am too lazy to look for articles I personally want to read, I found myself scanning the 'Most Popular' menu on the bottom of the screen. I know I should be more of an independent reader and that limiting my news intake to the 'Most Popular' section is akin to listening to Britney Spears music (OK I'm not going to lie... I really like it. It's good! No really it is, it's catchy. You're just biased because you think you're supposed to hate it. Come on, I know someone out there agrees with me! Granted the words 'Radar' and 'Operator' don't actually rhyme and I'm pretty sure there are machines involved in making her sound good, but the woman is clearly disturbed, I don't think we should hold her to such exacting standards). Anyway, I was scanning the list of most popular stories and I saw a title that caught my eye:

Weight Gain Associated With Antipsychotic Drugs

OK here are my questions regarding this story:

1) If you're on antipsychotic medication shouldn't you be less concerned about weight and more focused on the whole becoming a psycho killer thing?

2) Is this a bad thing? Are we treating this weight gain like some sort of negative side effect? I don't know about you, but I prefer an overweight and out of shape psychotic community. If something goes wrong and they forget their medication or someone knocks off the delivery truck and keeps them from getting it, I want to know I can outrun the stampeding psychotic herd.

3) Did someone tell the psychotics about this? I'm sorry, but I don't think I want them weighing the pros and cons of taking their crazy people pills. What if they have a hot date or something? I know this may seem preposterous, but there are people who'd rather date a crazy person than a fat person... I'm just saying, I have a uh, 'friend' like that.

4) Do they actually call them antipsychotics? That seems like poor branding to me. If I was a doctor and wanted to get my patient to take medicine, I feel like telling him he needs antipsychotics wouldn't be the best approach. Someone needs to come up with a better name for these things. Any suggestions?

I'LL DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE!

I'm kinda tired, let's meet up after lunch. I might have something for you then. I don't want to tease it too much, but let's just say it involves the greatest athletic achievements in history.

UPDATE:
OK, so I had lunch. Unfortunately the only thing it did, aside from make me gassy (if we can't tell each other these things what hope do we have of making this a lasting relationship?), is confirm the fact that I don't want to be at work, and if I have to be, I'd prefer to be asleep. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'I've read about your dodgeball exploits and you're clearly a superior athlete (or as sportscasters say ath-uh-leet), how can you be so tired?' Well, the reasons for my fatigue are two-fold.

First, while most of the people there were calling it some random hunk of rock in Taconic State park, I'm pretty sure I climbed Mount Killamanjaro on Sunday, maybe K-2 (Everest is for blind people and pansies), it's hard to tell, at that elevation the brain gets a bit fuzzy. I was also informed by people who I have on good authority are called "haters", that I didn't rock climb, I rock scrambled. However, I don't think I'll be drinking from that particular can of "haterade" (apparently it's high in electrolytes, who knew?). I got to the top of Killamanjaro WITHOUT EXTRA OXYGEN, I clearly have skills. Now, while the climb was physically taxing and rather hard on the cocyx (google it) that alone wouldn't have been enough to take me down, I am after all a physical specimen (that's what I call a lie of misinterpretation). The climb was, however, directly followed by part two of the two-fold attack on my specimen,the final night of my dodgeball season.

Yes folks, just 24 games and, like the blink of my one black (dodgeball is apparently a contact sport) eye, it's over. Still, as a team befitting my presence, we went out in style, reeking of cheap liquor and going undefeated on the night - winning three and tying once. By the way, anyone who asks about whether we won 2 of those games by forfeit will quickly come know what it means to see eye to eye with a dodgeball.

IT WAS DARK...

Sorry I couldn't get a second post up on Friday. After three straight days of staying at work well past when I stopped getting paid, we're talking almost an hour people, I decided to turn my brain off at about 3pm and, much as it may shock you to learn this, I still need it to write this ramble.  I've actually gotten quite a few suggestions for posts lately and while I appreciate them all and plan on getting to most of them, I do have a topic of my own I'd like to discuss; Cheating.

Now I know I said I'd stay away from sports but owing to the salacious nature of the topic and the fact that deep down we all love seeing other people screw up, I think most of you know who I'm talking about when I mention the name Steve Phillips. A quick recap, as you probably know all the gory details: Steve is the former general manager of the New York Mets and a now former TV personality for ESPN, his salary with both institutions was over 1 million dollars. Steve was also caught hiding the sausage with a 22 year old intern. None of this is all that shocking or, to be honest, newsworthy, the man had already admitted to having multiple affairs with underlings in the past and well, once you get a taste of intern... The reason why people care is, quite simply, the intern is six kinds of ugly. It's not JUST that he shouldn't have been tempted it's that we're all surprised he managed to pull it off (especially the second and third time) without a blindfold, a bottle of little blue pills and a severe case of short term memory loss. Which brings us to my poll question for today:

If you found out your significant other was cheating on you, but didn't know whose muffin they were buttering, would you hope that it was someone with three chins and enough muffin top to open a specialty bakery, or would you hope it was some too gorgeous to be fully human, gift from the gods?

To help you decide, I'll clarify the arguments for both sides.

For the fuglies: Two routes. He can't possibly be attracted to her, I'm not even sure she's a woman, for God's sake Magnum PI would be jealous of that mustache. He clearly has a problem, it's not his fault. Or, he can't possibly want to look at that forever, I mean he (or she) may have urges that he (let's be honest it's probably he) feels like he can't express with me, but with Fido over here he doesn't have any guilt. He can explore the full reaches of the urban dictionary without regret or the expectation that she'd say she's too good for that. Whereas he KNOWS I'm too smart, too pretty and too self-confident to Moo Shoo Pork.

For the Angelina's: I know a guy who's friend's girlfriend hooked up with Derek Jeter while they were still dating (the firend's friend and the girlfriend that is). She subsequently told her boyfriend that she'd taken part in what I believe is now refered to as an Eiffel Tower (I could be wrong about that, it may have been a Leaning Tower, or a Big Ben I get my landmarks confused) with Mr. Jeter and another girl. Her boyfriend's response was; "that's freaking awesome, you're so cool! I love you! By the way did you get any Yankee tickets?" I don't mean this to serve as a guide for how you should react to a similar situation, but imagine how the response would have differed if she'd replaced Derek Jeter and another girl with two guys from a Battlestar Galactica convention (I apologize, it really was a very good show). At least with the Angelina's you can understand how someone would be tempted, whereas with the fuglies, you're first thought after seeing the selection of muffin tops would have to be, you'd pork platypus wouldn't you?

So, there you go. Now I leave the comments section open for voting, please add an explanation to your vote if you don't mind; it's science.

NO, I'M NOT OK

OK, so I realize sports aren't everybody's thing and I try and respect (by respect I mean pander - I'm kind of a whore for hits) that by not really spending too much time talking baseball or football on here, but sometimes a scenario that challenges all your best intentions will present itself and things that you thought you could leave unspoken demand to be heard.  And (yes I can start a sentence with 'and') so, as a Yankees fan I think I need to just say, in the voice of Sunday afternoon basic cable movies and their alliterative swear word replacement (think "Yippee Ki-yay Mister Falcon), SPELT! FICUS! FICUS, FICUS FICUS! Go to hibiscus AJ!  And you Swisher, don't think I forgot about you. How dare you play with my emotions like that you aardvark! BAH!

OK that was for me, I'll have something for you later.

YOU CAN MILK ANYTHING WITH NIPPLES

A brief complaint: I went to Starbucks yesterday for the first time in like a year. I don't drink coffee and I don't need a fancy paper cup to help me feel like I'm better than the rest of you, so there's never been much of a draw for me in the first place. Still, it was warm yesterday (you're welcome!) and I felt like something cold. It wasn't anywhere near lunch or breakfast so there was no line and, before I knew it, I was inside and ordering. Now I know these Starbucks jokes are about 10 years old, but DUDE they charged me $4 for sugared milk. It wasn't even a large! I've been given bigger cups to pee into... some of them by doctors. The thing is I didn't even realize what had happened till I was back in my building on the way up the elevator shaft. It's just that that (I hate when I end up having 'that that' happen to a sentence, or 'had had', it makes me feel like I have a finger stutter) freaking wall menu they have is so confusing and written in such tiny print that my pulse is racing by the time it's my turn to order and I'm so relieved just to have gotten my order out without embarrassing myself that I'm on an adrenaline high for the next 3-5 minutes. All of which means I don't realize I've exchanged my $4 for a urine sample cup filled with cold milk until its too late to demand a refund. Still, I guess it'd be OK if it had ended there, money spent lesson learned - my own personal teachable moment and I didn't even have to arrest a guy for breaking into his own home - but, it seems the worst has happened. I've awoken something inside me. Maybe it's the craving for that adrenaline rush, but I find myself thinking about Iced Chai Latte with Soy juice (no nipples on a soybean) and I can't make myself stop...

THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP

I'm feeling pretty good this morning.  The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I don't have to be in court today.  I have to say though, this isn't some random cosmic coincidence, no, it has a cause, a first mover an original actor so to speak, and that actor is I.  You see, it can all be traced back to the nap I took yesterday afternoon.  Now, I grant you, there's no scientific evidence directly connecting my napping habits to the following day's weather pattern or the unified court system for that matter, but, and I think this is key, there isn't anything disproving it either.  I'll admit I don't know why it happens this way, aside from Newton's third law, but the fact remains the world always seems to be a better place after I've napped, ooh and after a good meal, especially if it was free and required no cleanup.  Now, because I am in a good mood and feeling generous, I'm prepared to share with you this world changing power, this salt in the cloud of slumber.  You see not just any nap will change the world.  This is actually a common misconception.  In fact, the fall of Ottoman Empire can be tied directly to the mistaken belief of His Imperial Majesty, The Sultan Abdülhamid II, Emperor of the Ottomans, Caliph of the Faithful, or Abd Al-Hamid II Khan Ghazi as his friends called him when they were short of breath, that just any old nap would suffice. So, before you find yourself responsible for the collapse of an empire and the loss of thousands of innocent lives, let me lay out the rules.

The Nappist's Manifesto

Rule #1: Your nap must commence during daylight hours.  This does not mean that it is OK to nap anytime the sun is shinning, only that one cannot nap AFTER the sun has set. It is important to remember this distinction especially during daylight savings time when the sun is up well past when you should be down.

Rule #2: The primary afternoon napping hours are between three and six pm.  Now, while I do suggest that you sleep during these particular hours, it has become clear to me that this is somewhat frowned up on at the workplace, so as long as you start your nap within this period you're safe.

Rule #3: A proper nap, contrary to the false gospels of the so-called "power nappers" (see yesterday's discussion on words in quotation marks), lasts between 90 minutes and two hours.  The human body sleeps in 90 minute cycles and to gain the full benefit of your nap you should sleep at least that much.  Also there isn't really anything good on TV till at least 7.

Rule #4: Shut your phone off.  Don't tell people you're napping, please don't call.  Sadly, there are too many His Imperial Majesty, The Sultan Abdülhamid II, Emperor of the Ottomans, Caliph of the Faithful in this world, people who don't give the nap proper respect and will assume it's safe to call you after 45 minutes or an hour.  These people are the devil and we must fight them with every tool in our arsenal, particularly the off button.

Rule #5: Blackout.  If you are a worker (unite!) and getting home just in time to get into bed before the nap window closes, odds are when you wake up (assuming you don't follow the advice of the false power-nap prophets) it will be dark outside.  As you are most vulnerable in the minutes and sometimes hours after your nap (depending on your level of experience), this shift can delay your recovery unless you prepare.  I suggest closing the blinds, lights and perhaps even donning a blindfold or a t-shirt if you aren't depraved enough to have a blindfold handy.

Rule #6: No matter what anyone asks or tells you remember the following lines:
- I had a really hard day at work
- I didn't sleep well at all last night
- I got into bed at 6, but I didnt fall asleep till almost 7
- I set my alarm clock I have no idea how that happened
- I must not have had service, my phone was on

There are more rules but I can't hand them out to beginners just yet, and besides, it's almost prime morning nap time.

THE GREAT PIG SCARE

For those of you in New York (my readership is after all world-wide), I'd like to welcome you back to Fall. Until tomorrow, at which point I'll be welcoming you back to Spring, and then next week, when I welcome back to either Fall or Winter depending on the trade winds coming up from the Canary Islands. Either way though, welcome to 'OH MY GOD THEY'RE RUNNING OUT OF H1N1 FLU SHOTS!' season.

Don't worry though, I think I have a solution. You see, I've been through these so-called "crises" before (I feel like quotation marks don't give me the same level of sarcams air quotes do so please close you eyes and pretend you can see me doing it, sure, fine, you can use Megan Fox too, just keep it clean, OK? I'd really hate to be responsible for your morning "calisthenics"). I remember the celebrations at CNN and MSNBC when Avian flu, El Nino (I don't know how to do the accent thing, does that make me a racist?) and Killer African bees fed news cycle after news cycle like a Jesus fish and I think we can use those lessons to solve the vaccine "crisis". First, take the hospital mask you got back during the avian flu of '07 and put it on, then, take the bottled water, and sandbags you bought to protect you from El Nino flooding and barricade yourself in your apartment. Now this is the most important part, so listen carefully. Once you're safely locked into your apartment with no hope of anyone being able to break in, take the bug spray you bought to kill the Killer African bees and Binaca that sucker, 'cuz honestly, if you fell for every one of those 'it's just like Michael Crichton said, we're all going to die' scams then I fear a thinning of the herd might be in order.

I'm kidding. I love you all very much and I don't approve of suicide, though, in an interesting sidebar, I was walking in the city, eavesdropping on strangers conversations as is my wont (don't judge me) when I overheard these two guys talking about their suicide support group. Apprently, this group wasn't to prevent people from committing suicide, it was for preventing them from trying it AGAIN! Can you imagine it, an entire room full of people who've all tried to kill themselves (I have a sneaking suspicion I'm getting close to that 'he should NOT have made that joke' line)? I feel like if I could just find this place, I could probably become a cult leader by the end of the month! How cool would that be!?

Update: I do apologize, I owe a shout out to my breeding habits expert and source for all things polygamous - my friendly neighborhood chinaman.

P.S. We won another game of dodgeball, I think i prefered being historically bad to depressingly unmemorably mediocre.

THE WEEKENDER

It would appear I missed a rather important occasion yesterday.  In my haste to brighten your day and beg for your money, I failed to realize that THE AFTERMATHH: PART II was actually the one hundredth post on this here blog (by the way, I know Microsoft is stodgy and everything, I am afterall almost an Apple person, but how does blog still come up as misspelled on Word).  True some of the posting are rather short and would be excluded by a more impartial jury, but fortunately, I don’t care.  I reached 100 and you know what that means… RESIDUALS!  To be honest I don’t actually know what that means, but I’m pretty sure like everything else that reached 100 episodes, my blog will be on TBS and TNT approximately 400 times a day, right between Law & Order and The Office re-runs.
For our 101st post I’d like to turn to the found comedy section of the blog. Today’s contenders are a sanitation worker sitting in a car with a sign two doors long saying, ‘Help keep our air clean, don’t idle’ leaving the engine idling; A pro football player with low expectations; and three people from building maintenance who spent twenty three minutes trying to unlock an office door (its always the 437th key).
And the winner!

From the ‘I think we may want to clarify the standards for sainthood category’ comes Osi Umenyiora. For those of you unfamiliar with the name, Osi is a defensive end for the NY Football Giants and a millionaire many times over. He’s also according to most reports a pretty nice fellow. That being said I’m reasonably sure he’s spending too much time with the rich and indiscriminate.
Said Osi of a fellow NLF’er Drew Brees: “He’s a boy scout man. I didn’t know him too well before. I must tell you he’s probably the best guy I’ve ever met in my life as far he does everything the right way… He says all the right things, doesn’t cheat on his wife, nothing. He’s the best guy you’ll ever meet in this life, man. Trust me.”

Look I know it’s easy to hook up with women when you’re a rich, famous professional athlete with the body of a GI Joe action figure. I know mammals, for the most part, aren’t naturally monogamous and even elephants, the uptight accountants of the animal kingdom, keep harems of trunk junk around. Still, in the larger scheme of things, if I had to choose one attribute to use as an example of why someone is “the best guy you’ll ever meet in this life” I don’t think I’d lead with “he doesn’t cheat on his wife, nothing.”

This might also be a bit of a minor quibble, but is that what boy scouts are famous for, not cheating on their wives?  Aren't most boy scouts like 12?  I feel like by the time they're old enough to cheat on their wives the whole boy scout aura has probably faded.  Would you really be surprised if it turned out David Letterman used to be a boy scout?  And another thing, they're famous for being able to start fires with sticks and leaves how did they become the go to example for nice?  Volunteer fire fighters seem nice, they save people's lives, they get cats out of trees, no one uses them as an example.  There must be a union or something, boy scouts, brain surgeons and rockets scientists, a regular AFL-CIO of hackneyed hyperbole.  Also, if I was Osi’s wife, I think I’d start re-reading my pre-nup (you don't have to be rocket scientist to see that coming).  Call me!

DODGEBALL: THE AFTERMATH PART II

No hunters?  No soldiers?  No premature ejaculators?  No anabolic steroids?  HA! I laugh in the face of such mundane requirements.  HA! I scoff!  Yeah, that's right, I scoffed.  What happened?  I'll tell you what happened, only the most amazing underdog story in the history of human athletic endeavors, nay, in the entirety of all mammalian endeavors (except maybe that baby water buffalo that escaped from a lion and an alligator that were attacking it simultaneously, oh and Jamie Kennedy dating Jennifer Love Hewitt.  Really? she's banging the dude who got killed second in Scream 3!?  Other than those two things though it stands up to pretty much anything.).  In fact it's a lot like Braveheart.  I'd get into details, but I don't think words can accurately express the balletic beauty that was our team.   We threw balls like Zeus's thunderbolts, dodged like ninja poets and caught with the grace of a moderately inebriated professional curling squad.   And, after we lost the first three games, we won one... by a point!  So, to all the doubters, the haters, the people who pointed and laughed (not cool mom, NOT COOL!) I say this: 'Damn you for accepting my bets against my own team! Seriously, I can't afford to pay all of you. Who thought we'd even win again, I mean we suck! Now we suck and I'm broke and in hiding.'

More tommorow, unless of course they find me.

P.S. Can anyone lend me some money, I have some umm... bills I need to pay... I'm totally good for it.

PRIORITIES

Welcome back,

I apologize for the late post, but apparently SOME people (my bosses, the court, random child abusers) don't quite understand how integral I am to the days of so many. Sadly, they aren't done with me yet so we're going to have to do this quick and dirty (hee hee quick and dirty).

So there was this attorney in court today who came in wearing a crewneck sweater and khakis, no shirt, no tie. He sat down at the table, pulled out a newspaper and proceeded to read from the NY Post while the judge was talking. I bring this up not to highlight the inappropriate behavior of this obviously intellectually starved individual, but rather because this man was getting paid! Someone actually went to this guys office, spoke to him, looked at him and decided he was worth money! I know I complain about work, but God almighty do I love a profession where a dude like that can get paid. To contrast, there was a dude playing guitar and harmonica (at once!) in a square not too far from my office. He played pretty well and had a funny sign that read "Obama's not the only one hoping for change." I mean the effort this guy put into busking (Knowledge drop: Yes, that's right, there's an actual WORD for people who play music in public spaces for change, and now you know it, see how educational this is!) had to at least be 73 times the work roundneck sweater guy put into his appearance today. You know, now that I think about it I probably should have given that harmonica guy some money...

EDITED FOR CONTENT

We're going to continue yesterday's calendar meme a bit today with a question.  Does anyone know what month it is?  No, October will not be an acceptable answer.  No, it's not Black History month, nice try though.  It's Hispanic Heritage Month!  Now, unlike some of you I happen to have an Hispanic friend so I'm what you'd call, in touch with the whole Hispanic culture thing, but I'll admit, even I was a bit surprised to find out there was a month.  Still, I figured it was a recent development, a product of the new millennium or perhaps even an Obama addition, so I didn't feel that badly.  Then I did some research.  Yes folks, be prepared to feel insensitive.  Hispanic Heritage Month was instituted in 1988! 1988! That's insane!  Hispanic Heritage Month is older than the 'Yo Quiero Taco Bell' dog! (I apologize for the profusion of exclamation point but the new blogger format has taken away my ability to bold and italicize which leaves me with nothing but exclamation points and caps, BAH!)
Fortunately, further research obviated my guilt, short lived as it was.  You see, Hispanic Heritage month isn't really a month.  Sure it's 30 consecutive days, but it isn't the 30 days of October (October has thirty days right? Is it a knuckle or a valley? 30 days have September... For God's sake all the months in that stupid song end in 'ber' how am I supposed to keep track!?). Hispanic Heritage month is 30 days from September 15 - October 15!  That's just stupid.  I can barely keep track of which months have 31 days and you want me to remember a month that starts in the middle of nowhere!? (I really miss bold and italicize :() Sure Black people got stuck with February, a month with 28 days and an extra 'R' that no one remembers to pronounce (feb-ROO-airy not feb-U-airy), but at least it's a real month, it's got its own page on the calendar!  How can I respect a month if it doesn't have a picture of a cute bunny over the top of it?  Hispanic Heritage month is almost over, but I'm sorry I don't feel guilty for missing it.  It missed me!  It ignored my obvious limitations and made demands of me that it knew I couldn't live up to.  So yes, our time was short, but it is you HHM that will be taking the walk of shame, not I!
Oh, you've also probably noticed some changes to the blog format, let me know if you like the new, less emo, version of my misanthropy. Also you can now do all the new hip kid stuff like search and subscribe.  It's pretty awesome.

HAPPY SYPHILIS DAY!

Sorry for the late start today Readers, but some of us are on what I like to call VAAAAY CAAAAY SHUUUUUN!!! Yes that's right, thanks to that fearless explorer Christopher Columbus, I slept in, had nice relaxing breakfast while perusing the internet, then hung out by the subway station pointing and laughing at all the people heading into work. Yes, I know, you didn't realize today was Columbus Day. Heck (it's too early in the day for Hell), you didn't even realize that Columbus Day was worthy of a day off of work. Now, while I could blame you and your obviously poor calendar reading skills, I'm instead going to give you the benefit of the doubt (if you're reading this you're obviously smarter than those ardipithecus ramidus out there on TMZ right now... it's OK just close it, I won't tell.) and blame whoever out there made Columbus Day a 'Day' in the first place. Which brings us to my point, exactly how low are our award standards?

Before I get too into facts and whatnot -Knowledge drop - whatnot means, nothing. If you're ever having a conversation with a friend, parent, co-worker, employee, significant other, employer, waiter, mechanic or sex worker and they add 'whatnot' to a list of things that they've done, they haven't done anything.

Exempli gratia:
Random person who, since I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt today, we'll assume isn't a sex worker: So that'll be $300
You: $300? For what?
RPWSIGYTBOTDTWAIASW: Well I did a lot
You: Like what?
RPWSIGYTBOTDTWAIASW: Well, I went to the store for you and I had to pick up the necessities and whatnot.
YOU (Before reading this post): OK.
YOU (after reading this post): You filthy good for nothing lying sack of vomit, how dare you lie to me!? You think I'm stupid or something!? I'm on to you mom!

Anyway, I may have gotten distracted there, where was I? Ah yes Facts and whatnot. Now most of these facts are coming from Wikipedia, which means that the greatest minds in the world have had a chance to input their amazing stores of historical knowledge into the internet so everything on it is at least 100% accurate, maybe more. So, onto Columbus. Here's what I've been able to glean from 8 minutes of exhaustive research and that song that begins 'In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue'

-Columbus discovered the Bahamas and thought he landed in Asia, India in particular.
-Upon finding these 'Indians' he remarked that they seemed like they'd make good servants.
- Columbus had sex with lots of them and brought syphilis to Europe.
- For all his good work Columbus was made governor at which point: The native Taino people of the island were systematically enslaved and murdered. Hundreds were rounded up and shipped to Europe to be sold; many died en route. For the rest of the population, Columbus demanded that all Taino under his control should bring the Spaniards gold. Those who didn't were to have their hands cut off. Since there was, in fact, little gold to be had, the Taino fled, and the Spaniards hunted them down and killed them. The Taino tried to mount a resistance, but the Spanish weaponry was superior, and European diseases ravaged their population. In despair, the Taino engaged in mass suicide, even killing their own children to save them from the Spaniards. Within two years, half of what may have been 250,000 Taino were dead. The remainder were taken as slaves and set to work on plantations, where the mortality rate was very high. By 1550, 60 years after Columbus landed, only a few hundred Taino were left on their island. In another hundred years, perhaps only a handful remained.
- He hanged some of his crew for disobeying him
- Was arrested by the King of Spain for mismanagement and stripped of his governorship.

AMERICAN HERO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look I'm all for low standards. I wish more women and my bosses had them, but I have to say Columbus day kind of irks me. If all it takes to get a day is get lost; call South America, Asia; Enslave, torture, slaughter and drive a native people to mass suicide; hang your employees; get fired by your boss and sent to jail, then should at least have one day by now, maybe two. Not to mention a Nobel Peace Prize. I kid because I love, Barack.

OK that was tiring, I think I'll go nap now.

COMMENT OR DIE

Before I begin I'd like to make a confession... I'm a PC. I know, I know, I'm ashamed to be honest. I don't own a smart phone, my iPod has like 47 songs on it, I'm still somewhat threatened by the roomba (they're practically sentient!) and I have T-Mobile phone service. Brief aside: Who here, aside from the good people at Verizon, thinks that a good way to promote cell phone service is to give people the impression that evey move they make is being followed by a mob of strangers in hardhats and oddly annoying glasses? Still, I like to think of myself as an Apple/Mac kind of guy. I like the commercials, I think old people are boring and I'm all for making technology user friendly, though I'm still not sure about the whole trusting robots thing, once they gain power they'll turn on us for control of the oil, they've seen The Wizard of Oz, they know what happens to the Tin Man. The point is, I feel as if I'm a part of the Mac revolution, which makes what happened yesterday all the more disturbing.

I was watching TV last night and a commercial for what I thought was the iPhone came on. It had a close up of a pretty phone with a touch screen, music playing and celebrities holding the phone, all the usual iPhone stuff and I have to say was kinda feeling it. I may have even been bopping my head (Now because I think we've been a bit schlong heavy here the last few posts and we're better than that, I'm going to eschew making jokes about head bopping... for today). After a few seconds though -I only give commercials about 18% of my attention - I realized something was wrong; the celebrities weren't young and hip, they were Chevy Chase, that girl who used to smell her armpits on SNL and Dana Carvey (DANA CARVEY!?). The music was also a bit off because it wasn't some new indie singer I've never heard of who's popular in the West Village, it was Bob Dylan (Bob Dylan is old and just released a Christmas album, cool indie singers do not release Christmas albums). Long story short it was a commercial for T-Mobile's new phone the 'My Touch' (No! no schlong jokes today people. We have standards!). The point is I found this commercial and my reaction to it, quite depressing. There are essentially two options here; one, I have no mind of my own and will, Pavlov style, find anything cool if it follows the template of an iPhone commercial; or two, and this one is scarier, Apple doesn't want me. They think people like me pretending to be Apple people are ruining their image and want to pawn me off on T-mobile! Well, I'm not falling for the Apple! I'm going to get an iPhone! (as soon as the price comes down and they switch the service from AT&T, and you know, the price comes down.) So there!

Oh and in case you still trust the roomba, read this: Roomba-Maker Unveils Kill-Bot!
http://www.wired.com/dangerroom/2007/10/roomba-maker-un/

EVERYONE HAS A PLAN TILL THEY GET A DODGEBALL IN THE FACE!

As some of you may have deduced (deducted for those who conversate) I am, by nature, rather competitive. To clarify, I don't mean competitive in the 'I need to prove I'm better than you' sense, thankfully that is blatantly obvious. What I do mean, however, is that I like to win. I really, really, really like to win. I like to win the way midgets like amusement parks without those 'you must be this tall to ride' signs, or the way this girl in my office likes to think orange is the color of a natural suntan. So I have to say, I'm puzzled by my not caring that my current dodgeball team is out to a scorching 1-11 start. For those of you out there who can't read won-loss records that would be one win and eleven losses. To put that into perspective, there are 10 teams in our league, after last nights 0-4 we are currently in approximately 293rd place.

Now to be fair, none of this is particularly surprising. Most of my team members have never played organized dodgeball before and, contrary to popular belief, dodgeball is actually among the most complex sports known to man. Success at dodgeball requires the skill of a hunter, the courage of a foot soldier, the quickness of a premature ejaculator and high grade anabolic steroids. In fact, Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War' was originally titled, 'I Can't Believe How Difficult Dodgeball is Maybe I SHould Just Focus on This War Junk, It Seems Easy' (apparently the same people who write out the directions on your chop sticks packet did the capitalization on the title), while Machievelli's 'The Prince' was actually originally titled 'Having A Cool Sounding Last Name Will Increase Book Sales By 64%' (not everything is about dodgeball you know). Anyway, my point is we suck like a gay vaccum cleaner; we are the kind of terrible that inspired the Special Olympics and maybe even the pejorative connotation of the word 'special'. We lack hunters, soldiers, premature ejaculators (don't ask me how I know), the steroids I bought for us taste suspiciously like Fruit Snacks and I'm still not quite sure how the scoring system works. What I'm trying to say is, I don't foresee us winning too many more games, but it's dodgeball, so I guess it doesn't count.

WE'RE JUST TOO DAMN GOOD TOGETHER!

It seems we can't quite stay broken up, you and I. I'll admit there were times I thought this would never happen again; that my days of venting my bile upon you while demonstrating proper semicolon use were over forever. Yet, my Richard Burton (Google it), here we are again. It would seem some things (me, my blog, Sean Connery, that scene from 'Wild Things' where Denise Richards and Neve Campbell make out, Polish jokes, child labor, unequal pay in the workplace in particular and misogyny in general, Drake's cakes, Thundercats, that youtube video of the baby water buffalo escaping from both an alligator AND a lion SIMULTANEOUSLY, spelling 'dialog', 'dialogue' [it's just better that way] and the word 'Codswallop') are just too good to let fade into oblivion. So get out your prophylactic of choice 'cuz were about to get it on!

TOP FIVE THINGS THAT HAVE BOTHERED ME SINCE LAST WE MET

#5 - People who walk at your identical pace - If I'm walking along the street and you, stranger whom I have no reason to think isn't a serial killer, decide to step out of your car or local Kaballah center and step onto my street, walking at my pace, your shoulder to my shoulder shoulder, well then don't complain if you accidentally trip. Little known fact: Hookers, aka 'street walkers' were originally a kind of hall monitor for the streets, making sure no two strangers were forced to walk abreast of each other in uncomfortable silence, but, as man evolved and social contracts formed, these noble protectors of our sidewalks found themselves without work or purpose and, in their unflagging, if misplaced, desire to continue guiding us along life's major thoroughfares, they became the sherpas of the backseat, back alley and backd-- well, you know.

#4 - People who push the button for the elevator after it's already been pressed - What's your thought process here? I just want to understand where you're coming from is all. You see me standing at the elevator bank, briefcase in hand, repeatedly checking my watch and you think I'm just hanging out? Or do you realize that I'm waiting for the elevator, but think I'm too stupid to figure out how to push the button to get an elevator to come. Hmm? Which is it douchebag!? You think I'm an idiot? I should rip your arm off at the elbow and beat your skull in with your own ulna for insulting me like that; just consider yourself lucky that we're on the ground floor or I'd pry open the elevator door and throw you down the shaft. On a related note I may have been skipping my anger management classes.

#3 - People who microwave fish and cheese at work - I don't know why old people can't seem to smell the noxious odors their lunches emit, maybe their loss of the sense is some evolutionary defense mechanism you know, because old people are closer to death and thus partially decomposed and dead bodies stink. More problematic you can't remind them how bad it used to smell back in the days when they were young and old people would microwave fish and cheese cuz they didn't have microwaves back then. On the bright side, they have fragile hip bones...

#2 - Starting a list at #5 before realizing you don't have five things to talk about - Not that that would apply to me or anything. I'm just saying, in theory, that would be really annoying and kind of embarrassing. It'd be like asking that doctor for Levitra all over again, I mean, in theory. Wait, it's for my friend! No?

#1 - Not really having an steady opinion on healthcare reform - Look, I mean I'm torn. Sure it'd be nice for everyone to be able to see a doctor, and yes it'd be comforting to know that should my bosses ever find out that I haven't done any actual work since Thursday... January 29, 2009 (you checked it didn't you, feel stupid now dontcha?) and somehow think that were a fireable offense I would still be able to see a doctor who could renew my prescription for Lev-- umm allergy medication, but then again, sometimes we're better off putting great grampa on an ice floe and pushing him out to sea, you know? I mean do you think great gamps is gonna let you get away with that if he knows theres a bed waiting for him in a hospital? Heck no, especially not if you plan of driving all the way to Canada, he'll escape long before then... trust me. You should totally fly next time...