Gerbil Dating Protocols

(by Doctor Dick)

Whether U live in liberal California where inter species dating is common or visiting Minnesota where eroticism is imported only during the summer, UR sure to run across someone who has dated a gerbil... like actor Richard Gere.

Richard (or "the dickster" to his amigos) ended up in the hospital ER due to his NOT following these simple protocols: his string broke!

Many who have walked past a pet shop and felt a strange arousal at the site of a gerbil in the window have felt guilty for it and have gone home never to know the pleasures of a human/gerbil relationship.

However once U have mastered Gerbil dating U will thank the Gerbil God for directing you to read this:

First, after purchase allow the Gerbil to spend some private time alone while he (or she) makes themself more attractive for you.  Simply provide everything your Gerbil needs to look attractive.  Get these items when you make your Gerbil purchase.

Why not bring your Gerbil a little gift... like a Wyn wheel... show your Gerbil U care.

Take it to a seed shop for dinner.

Later that night, home alone with your Gerbil... show it your snake... blow marijuana smoke in its face and poor alcohol down its gullet... when your G is feeling really good quickly anesthetize it.  De fang, dewclaw, and de-fur it

(de-furring is optional).

Very Important:  Tie a string around its little neck.  Make sure the string is strong & tight... so you don't lose a good friend.

Now liberally cover Mr. G with KY jelly and place him in the ice box until frozen... hard.

Guess where the Gerbil will wake up!

Women's Personality Based on Hair Color

I know it, you know it, we pretty much all know you can judge a woman's personality just based on her hair color. Now I'm no scientist so I'm not even going to try to explain how the color of one's hair could affect their personality, I'm just sticking to the facts. Before presenting my analysis I ought to clear up one thing. The analysis is based on the color of hair on the woman's head which we all know might not be her natural hair color.

Blonde-
The blonde is a brainless beauty. She generally doesn't have a worry in the world other than trying to remember what time that pedicure appointment was. You better treat this chick well, because every other guy you see is going to try to steal her away from you.

Brunette-
The brunette is an intelligent, caring woman with a lot of depth. Her beauty isn't necessarily striking, but can be overwhelming nonetheless. You'll want to bring this girl home to Mom and know she'll be a great mother and homemaker.

Redhead-
The redhead is a saucy, temperamental woman. If she were a food she would definitely have a star next to it warning how spicy the dish is. If you want to go out and party with someone, this is your wild party girl. Take her out and you'll be sure to have a crazy time. Get ready for some wild times between the sheets too.

Black Hair-
The woman with black hair is a lady. She is elegant, reserved and classy. You will want to take her to a fine restaurant where you can share some expensive wine and good conversation. Although this lady has exquisite beauty you need not fear someone stealing her away since she shows unequaled loyalty and devotion to her lover.

Enjoy the Silence...

(by Hex-Girlfriend, visit her blog Hexus-Nexus)

Keeping my memories company and attempting to bind my personality with labels, labels, labels – all bad ones, no less – are these words bouncing around the small concavity in my misfiring mind: Recession, aggression, compression, depression, regression…That is, at this moment, all I’m stuck with. I started giving the world the silent-treatment a thousand years ago. My own head just hears myself better, I guess.

The short-list of my itemized companions also includes my never-fading, forever-precious gift of a name from my father that nobody ever got right the first time. You’d think it was a certified tongue-twister or something with all the variations I’ve been addressed by over the years –

“Gloria, what time is it??” Not even close.

“Lorianne…” Let me stop you right there – please don’t even finish the statement.

“Hi, Lauren...” Oy.

“Y’know something, Lorelei…!?” You’re friggin’ kidding.

“LOREAL, where’s my car?” Aaannd… …you’re drunk.


It did get sort of tiring having to correct folks by way of my own brand of brief-instructional/witty-inside-joke - "It's pronounced like 'DeLorean' but without the 'duh'".  They mostly picked up on my knowledge of automobile history which made it funny for me for a while. 


Who’d have thought a six-letter, three-syllable name would puzzle so many educated people? "Lorien" is, after all, borrowed from famous AND recently popular literature.  Can you guess where it's from?  Two minutes on Google and you'll pretty much find out...

The problem with people is that their brains get stuck on the familiar, common-sounding, easily recognizable fluff. Save for that one nut of a high-profile client who’d actually get it RIGHT while she was sober, but would make me an exotic, French-i-fied cosmetics brand after a few drinks at Morton’s out with her own clients. Had she eaten enough steak and potatoes, maybe she’d have gotten it right. Or, come to think of it, maybe in her Queen-of-the-Music-Industry robes she was just screwing with me – O, she knew how to properly pronounce my name alright, but it was so silly-sounding to her that she just had to make her drunken jabs at me. Either way she loses because in the end (of the commercial, anyway) I’m worth it! Whatever that means…

If You Don’t Read This I Will Kidnap Your Family

(by Pete Lopez. Read his blog Road to Absolute Zero.)

Okay, now that I have stolen your undivided attention, I confess that it’s highly unlikely that I would go through with the kidnapping. Besides the obvious concerns of serving a prison sentence and not possessing advanced technology to accurately track the people who read this, there are numerous other factors.

First off, I am far too lazy to put in the necessary research in order to decipher where anyone’s family members reside as well as devise a plan to secretly abduct them. Secondly, I dwell in a small city apartment making it highly unfeasible to house more than several victims simultaneously.

Finally, knowing the warm heart I have, I envision myself treating the captives more like invited guests. In an effort to sooth my conscience I would try to make their stay as pleasant as possible by providing recently released DVDs, offering my catalogue of board games and sharing a vintage bottle of aged whiskey.

Now that I think about it, I would have to tidy up the place, prepare balanced meals and do countless loads of laundry. Those are tasks I barely perform for my own benefit. I would spend so much time fussing about being a respectable host that I’d end up forgetting that the sole purpose of these people inhabiting my humble abode was to exhort their other relatives into reading this.

The whole process would turn into an enormous hassle. After reevaluating, I have concluded that this fiasco would be far more trouble than it was worth. If the only reason you have read the above is for family member safety then I am truly sorry for any state of panic caused and for the waste of your precious time.

Despite my apology for the empty kidnapping threat, I must be honest and inform you that I will declare you as “an idiot” if you don’t read this. My opinion will be that you posses the mental capacity of an infant and I will automatically assume that you were a failure in school and reek of rotten eggs and selfishness………..Alright, I admit it’s unrealistic for me to judge one's intelligence level strictly based on whether this was read and my sense of smell is weak and unreliable. Please forgive me once again as I withdraw my absurd claim.

Alas, let me take a stab at inflicting guilt. If you don't read this piece, I will quit brushing my teeth. That's right, if you forgo reading this, then the burden of my decaying teeth will rest solely upon your shoulders……Okay, I must retreat yet again. There is never an excuse for poor hygiene and I am sure that my mom would forbid me to go through with that unsanitary ploy.

Let me try a non threatening angle that offers prosperity. If you read this piece then you will be blessed with great fortune today. I better add a disclaimer in parenthesis and italics. (If you didn't have a real lucky day, then your luck was that nothing bad happened. If something bad happened then your luck stopped it from getting any worse. If you had the worst day of your life then your luck is that going forward, all your future days will be brighter.)

Alright, I throw in the towel. Presenting open ended fortuitous promises or attempting to deceive people into reading my work is quite superficial and I prefer to believe I am above that. The problem is that I wish to be wealthy and recently picked writing as the path to that accomplishment. The simple premise being, I masterfully sculpt this essay and then someone drops from the sky to offer me unimaginable riches.

I already have the situation detailed in my mind. Mr. Magic Man (Triple M for short) dressed in a tuxedo will slowly float down from the clouds and say “I have come across your material and it's absolutely fantastic. Here is a million dollar check and a job offer to write for my newspaper. As per the agreement, a bikini wearing supermodel will be provided as your secretary and here is the key to the city.”

Of course I would respond with “About time” I mean, “Thank you for the opportunity Sir, you won’t regret it.”

Alright, I know the angel billionaire man scenario sounds ridiculous. I’d love to model my past after a young orphaned boy who was dealt a bad hand in life but yet never gave up the flickering hope to be a professional journalist. His heartwarming tale began as a poorly dressed boy gathering cans found while rummaging through dumpsters and fraternity houses. With the small income collected from recycling, he was able to purchase an outdated typewriter with missing letters.

For years he worked countless hours at minimum waged jobs but never relinquished his dream. Sleepless nights in his adopted parents' dungeon supplied his only free time to write and he did the best he could evading words requiring the L and R keys. Finally after 15 years of exhausting manual labor and keeping his spirit alive, he got his well-deserved break. He received mainstream acclaim after penning an ecological documentary titled Goba Waming. His piece reversed decades of environmental damage and he became crowned “The Green Savior”.

However, my lack of motivation favors avoiding the back breaking employment and relentless desire so that I can skip instantly to the big break. Thus, I developed the concept of kidnapping family members to expedite the process. Since my overnight writing career has proven to be fruitless, I shall simply move on to other get rich quick schemes. Maybe performing fiery daredevil stunts drenched in rubbing alcohol, becoming a superhero or composing lyrical recipes for a musical cook book. Who knows what crazy ideas I'll come up with next and be too lazy to follow through?

Kalahala Action

(Image by Chris Benedetto, visit his site Honest Propaganda)

Here's an image created by Chris Benedetto that I thought looked very appealing.

Chris says of Kalahala Action, 'I remember my sister told me about a store in the neighborhood that had a sign in the window that said, "we now sell Islamic Bathing Suits". So I got to wondering what one would look like. Well, one Google image search and photoshop tweak later and you have the finished product. lol.'

I Think We Should See Other Paragraphs

(by Pete Lopez. Read his blog Road to Absolute Zero.)

For situations where the probability of the outcome is likely to be unfavorable I have created a new one step ahead process. Rather than patiently waiting to lose, switch to being the aggressor. This eliminates clutching on to a small hope which painfully disintegrates into disappointment. 

Alright, well now is probably a wise spot to give an example of what I’m writing about. Let's say I notice a famous actress at the Laundromat that’s clearly out of my league but think to myself, boy I wish I could “marry her.” She’s also a foot taller, reading poetry and sporting a wedding ring the size of an unpeeled orange. Those things prove inconsequential as my brain peps me up by mentioning,

“You look stunning in heels, poems aren’t your forte but you enjoy the occasional dirty limerick and her ring is only on to repel weirdoes, not someone of your stature. Toss a sock nearby and while fetching it say, wouldn’t it be a great story to tell our future kids that we met doing laundry?” 

Well this encounter was doomed for the start and got the snobbish reply “How about I tell my billionaire husband I met a ‘sock-hole’ doing laundry?” Thus I end up heartbroken and watch my clothes spin as I peel an orange in my misery. Now I am depressed over a situation that had a zero percent chance of success. 

What I am proposing is to take the initiative and prevent the unwanted result before it occurs. This time after strolling over to regain the sock, I’ll peer into her laundry basket with discontent and say “Listen, I don’t think our clothes are the right match, I am going to start seeing other people.” Now as I am strutting away, my imagination has me believing she is devastated and that I turned down the advances of a celebrity. Our relationship was doomed to end abruptly, but using the latter one allowed it to be on my terms.

This tactic isn’t only applicable in the romance realm. Once I recall bombing on an interview for my dream position as Lord Essayist. At first I latched onto a fragment of hope that the employer could see my winning personality shine through my idiotic words. Maybe I’m overreacting and my response wasn’t that bad when asked to provide an example about excelling on a special project. There has to be some hidden positives in my reply of…

"There was an instance while working late, I had to accomplish this monumental task with a tight deadline and minimal budget, to cover for an incompetent worker, who quit the day prior to join the circus and on his departure spitefully poisoned the files necessary for the assignment. Since the client waiting for the research report was an impatient dictator, I knew time was against me. Fighting through a hangover with shear determination, I was able to cure the damaged documents and save a kitten from falling into the paper shredder. My boss was so impressed that he is still raving how both the company avoided the wrath of a tyrant and can still say it never murdered any cute animals because of me...........alright I give up, none of that happened. I spoke a few generic statements at first hoping to stall time to contrive a pertinent example but obviously I just spiraled into a far fetched tale. I do swear that if this interview was again tomorrow, I would have a well rehearsed answer to that question."

After reevaluating I decided there was no saving the situation. My shot was already botched by arriving late and mumbling nonsense to my possible manager so it was pointless to sulk about it. Instead, it’s smarter to be proactive and mail out a professional rejection memo to the company on official Pete Lopez letterhead. 


“Dear Firm Z,

Thank you for taking time out of your precious day to meet with me. Unfortunately I just don't think your corporation is the right fit. I have come to the conclusion that it’s within my best interest to see other employers. I will keep your company’s information on file for at least a year and if some unrealistic scenario comes along where I reconsider employment, I shall contact you. Best of luck in all your corporate adventures and I’m sure you’ll find someone excited to work for you and takes the position seriously.

Warm Regards
Pete Lopez” 

To recap everything, I didn’t meet my sugar momma while doing laundry and I’m still writing essays as a peasant, but in my eyes, I was always the winner. My warped vision has the actress pleading that she can change wardrobes and Firm Z is literally holding a wealthy offer incase I ever reassess. Maybe I am right or maybe I am wrong but my beliefs tuck me in and allow me to get a great night sleep. Sweet dreams.

PS famous celebrities probably don't do their own laundry, just roll with it.

Dis-Information: Saga of the Clueless Mind

(by Hex-Girlfriend, visit her blog Hexus-Nexus)

It is beyond comprehension - once upon a time we did some crazy-ass stuff. Well, some of it was "crazy"; most of it was just weird.  FUN as all hell, but truly weird and uniquely ours.  Yep, you should recognize the posessive there...

Some of this weird-stuff we got on film.  It was cool and special and meaningful and super, super-secret from friends & family - no, they couldn't know or else it would be none of those things, right?  "Our dirty, little secrets" - locked in a padded box; protected with a password; tied with a bow  - all excitement and edge-of-our-seats, when-can-we-do-it-again!? anticipation with teasing, buzzy invitations by silent emails and leading winks. A regular covert operation.

It was truly all fun-and-games until both of us came up with the same idea while browsing the ever-captive interNET - we could make a website!! Post some pics & video to create a subscription-site or charge a pay-per-view fee for each download.  Cool, right?  Have fun AND put some money in the bank!  It was an AWESOME IDEA! All we needed was good video-camera, website-building software and an endless bank of "Awesome Ideas" to use.

Things were "Just AWESOME"... Well, it was truly awesome until it was suggested that people might get bored seeing the same, significant other in these videos and pics all the time.  MODELS could be substituted for the "same 'ol" BORING ball-and-chain. Just rent a hotel-room, pay them a small fee to video-tape them for an hour and out they go...

Seriously, now - can I get a "Rejected!"? Can someone else go BUY a CLUE for Cripe's sake!??

So back to the drawing-board we go without too much hullaballoo.  Things returned to calm quite swiftly. That is, until it was discovered that somebody went ahead and did it anyway.  Behind someone's back. There were lies and there was hurt and then there were tears and, finally, discussion.  Mend, mend, mend. 

So time passes and things are smoother again as honesty does have an ability to cure and create new understanding.  There are new secret discussions about new, more exciting "covert weirdness" and there is renewed anticipation.

It is then mentioned that the most unique, secret, weird thing we'd ever shared just "has to be captured on film".  Minds are abuzz and cheeks are flushing in a display of replenished exhilaration!  Wow - he wants to preserve our all-time, favorite "weird-thing" forever! And then there was sweetness and smiles...

I say you can just go get as many of those <<secrety-things you used last time>> and just <<secret thing you did with aforementioned secrety-things>> as much as you WANT!     :D

"Um, I meant with models..."            >: {

"Woo You Back" by Fat Justin Bieber

(Music Video by John Brennan, visit his YouTube channel eatwheatbread)

What could happen to our rich, beautiful superhero with the golden voice Justin Bieber in fifteen years? If he didn't have all that money and put on a few pounds do you think he'd have a harder time wooing his ladies?

John assures us he is not mocking Justin Bieber. Let's face it, Justin Bieber has good looks, a great voice, a bazillion dollars, and endless babes. John says if anything he is more laughing a his own lack of control eating.

Without further ado, I bring you--

"Woo You Back" by Fat Justin Bieber

Retirement Press Conference

(by Pete Lopez. Read his blog Road to Absolute Zero.)

While screaming vulgarities at a college football game on TV from a box seat on my couch, the sudden notion of how young the players were hit me. I then realized that I may have to accept that my window of opportunity was shut and it would be wise to retire from pursuing my own professional sports career. I am no longer a spring chicken and it takes many more fingers to count back to the year I graduated from college as opposed to the number I tend to believe. 

It’s clear, now that I reside in my upper lower thirties that I am probably a tiny tiny bit past my prime. I know that as of yet I haven’t revealed any potential whatsoever in professional sports, but c'mon, lots of times while eating reduced fat potato chips, I thought there is no reason why that can’t be me. I remember many times being stretched out on the living room sofa swishing balled up napkins into the kitchen garbage hoop (pail) or how I am always dodging and spinning by motionless defenders (commuters or shoppers) as I walk up an escalator. 

Wait a second! I am in magnificent shape and have the reflexes of a cat. At that precise moment it seemed asinine as to why I didn’t come to this obvious conclusion years earlier. 

Next, after convincing myself I am still youthful with my physical prime ahead of me, I began to negotiate rapid ways to advance to elite professional status. With some slight fudging of the numbers, I was able to determine several routes as long as I concentrate and start training immediately following this freshly popped beer. I want to be a sports superstar but not an environmentally unfriendly one with wasteful tendencies. 

One road originates with me trying out for a neighborhood team and climbing up the ranks to the big leagues. Another option is enrolling at a local community college for a second major in communications or astrophysics and using intramural sports as a stepping stone. I assume either avenue would quickly lead to me dominating because of my unique combination of skill, hustle and heart. Talent scouts would then start flocking to view my matches and within months, I would be on the verge of signing a multimillion dollar contract. 

A few seconds later cold hard reality appeared in the form of a pushup. As I dropped to do one, my body informed me that it was not in cooperation of this plan. There was no way in hell the above sequence of events was occurring and coincidence was not the reason my place is on the bleachers instead of playing on the field. My motivation deteriorated and my roller coaster ride of becoming a professional athlete had concluded. I strolled back to the fridge for another beer because my previous plan consisted of chugging the last one in order to start training.

Unfortunately, in due time I’d end up revisiting my athletic urge by watching something like Olympic bobsledding or World’s Greatest Shark Hunters. Severe doubt would then overwhelm my previous assessment and I would reflect “Why was I such an idiot last season?” I then persuade myself all over again to become a world class athlete, but to make up for lost time, switch to an unpopular sport with fewer competitors. 

Eventually, lack of exercise and irrational blame of poor genetics inherited from my parents triumph. Thus the cycle circles again. I quit my shortened badminton career, store newly purchased birdies in the garage and have familiar feeling of disappointment. 

With that being said, I am finally laying my reoccurring dream to rest and am announcing my official retirement from professional sports. I’ll weep today, but tomorrow I’ll turn over a brand new leaf and spend time pursuing more plausible goals. No more silly distractions about being the next homerun king, Vienza trophy winner or curling champion. I will shift my attention to writing this literary masterpiece, starring in a blockbuster film as a rock guitar legend and as the final act in my elder age, becoming the first unanimously elected US president.

On the side, I may dabble in adult film making as well and take some astronaut training courses but that’s a little much for my pallet right now. I am not ruling out performing in an adult film on the moon, but I am not going to put emphasis on that feat now. Perhaps I’ll test several actresses’ credibility on a huge air mattress in my spare time but that of course will not be my main focus. 

Anyway, by announcing that I withdraw from the world of sports, I’m able to narrow down my to-do list and make it much more feasible to accomplish. If I have an unmanageable amount tasks lined up, I usually skip them all and take a nap. It’s a quite similar situation at my job when my boss wants a special project finished, the compliance officer demands a report to be more within “regulation standards” and the secretary needs the use of my bulging muscles to move heavy file boxes. I’ll think to myself, you know what, there is no way I can accomplish all of that in the requested allotment of time so it’s totally unfair for me to pick one and play favorites. The only logical and unbiased thing to do is, to do none of it.

Okay, I am ready to announce to the world that I am finally retiring from professional athletics. To generate enough publicity for an actual press conference I may have to expand on the truth, be on every street corner handing out fliers and chose a location near a crowded intersection, but I will do it. It is worth the effort so I can make everything official to my mind, friends and scouting agents. It would eliminate all of my annoying flip flopping. I have already rehearsed an opening statement and it would most likely sound like this….

“I want to first thank you all for setting aside precious time from your busy schedules and joining me today. I have gathered you all here to announce that I am gracefully stepping down from every single competitive professional sport.” Then after a brief pause at the podium to compose myself and wipe a tear away with a handkerchief, “This has been an extremely difficult decision for me to make and I have thought it over countless times in my head. With the support of my loving family and friends who are here with me, I believe that the correct choice has been made. I will now direct my full attention to the crowd to answer a select few intimate questions in the limited time remaining.” 

Then I would field the typical press conference questions such as… Who are you? How did you know the press would be stuck in traffic here? Can you explain again who you are? Can you please promise to never make a comeback? Have you ever compared your physical build to that of an athlete? Are those hired actors over there portraying your family cause these obviously have superior genes? 

I am confident that with some quick thinking and a little guidance from my agent (am in negotiations with a pretend one) I’ll gently steer the conversation towards how I am in the middle of transitioning to a career in writing as well as many other non-athletic agendas. Of course I don’t want people fearing that my next move is disappearing from the public spotlight in order to spend more time with my family. My folks already see me enough and aren’t craving any bonus occasions. 

I want everyone assured that this is far from the last of Pete Lopez. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply because I keep retiring from dream occupations I never had a chance of fulfilling or because I have a fairly generic name. It takes a big man to finally admit when it’s time to turn away from something that he loves. It’s never classy to linger around after your time us up. The best thing for me to do is keep my dignity and walk away before I am beaten. There are so many other things left for me to conquer.

Solving Murder Cases

(Reality TV)

I think maybe I've watched just a few too many Forensic Files. Now I'm normally the last one to figure out who the murderer is in a normal murder mystery movie, but I'd have to say I'm a pro sleuth when it comes to reality murders.

Basically the rule of thumb is that the spouse did it. Even if they have an iron clad alibi, they still did it. They arranged it or hired someone or used voodoo or something. Usually when the spouse is first interviewed they will say how much they loved their significant other and they'll try to squeeze out some tears for dramatic effect.

Then you find out they have another lover. "Oh, but that lover doesn't mean anything to me" they'll say before marrying them a month later. And what about the insurance policy they just took out on their beloved spouse? Isn't it just an amazing coincidence that the policy pays double in cases of accidental drowning and their spouse drown in the bathtub?  How about those cases where a guy is asked why he didn't report his wife being missing for many days and he says she just got upset and left. Right, without her children. Oh, and without her purse. Sure buddy.

The 4 Categories of Movie Previews

(by Pete Lopez. Read his blog Road to Absolute Zero.)

When watching television, it’s common to see advertisements for upcoming movies. The intention is to persuade you to get off the couch and head to the cinema. The producers will resort to any measures necessary to have that accomplished. That includes spoiling the best parts and if they don’t receive positive feedback from real critics, they’ll just quote favorable reviews from random people who saw an advanced screening. A movie studio ranks a films success on how much money it rakes in rather than the number of stars it gets.


With that being the case, I have developed an art to estimating from a preview as to whether or not I am going to enjoy the movie. Although it only offers a short tease, it’s very calculated and everything contained in it, is there for a reason. That allows me to pinpoint if there is actual merit to the film or if the preview is trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Now after some experimenting, I have created 4 distinct categories in which I place movies from solely viewing a preview and have explained them below.


Sure Bet - This is when I am positive the movie is going to be a winner. The preview displays witty banter, brash violence, classy nudity or a complex love rhombus. The innovative plot has created something like a Space Mesopotamia and the dignified cast did not come from a reality show. I’ll bet my namesake on the superiority of the film and rally a crowd to join me to at the theater. I am already expecting pats on the back after the viewing for selecting it. I’ll do so much bragging that this flick is going to be awesome that even if it the overall consensus of the flick is poor afterwards, I’ll go to my grave defending that it was amazing. I have put this movie on too high on a pedestal to ever admit it was anything less than great.


Metro-sexual - This movie can swing either way. The preview showed some moments of potential but also doubt. It could tease an exciting plot about terrorists poisoning America’s beer supply but also have talking animals. Since I lack complete faith in the picture I wouldn’t risk my movie choosing reputation on it. Instead, I’d hope a friend recommends we go so they would shoulder the burden. Also, I may try to squeeze it in unexpected free time like if I get kicked out of a bar or the boss calls in sick so I am forced to take a long lunch. This lowers my expectations because it wasn’t my idea or it’s in a spot where I’m merely killing time. If it’s great, than it was the surprise of the day. If it was awful, than it wasn’t my choice or I am sure it was better than filing audit reports in the supply room. 


Ten Seconder - Somewhere in a magazine I read that a woman knows within the first 10 seconds of meeting a male if she will sleep with him. Well after ten seconds of preview, I know that I will never do this movie. I’ll hold no ill will towards it and hope it finds that special audience but it’s not me. Maybe it’s a documentary about pattern sewing, a musical about an elderly woman reinventing herself or it stars Tom Cruise. Whatever the case, it’s irrelevant to me and we hold no future together. As far as I am concerned, this movie never existed and is erased from my memory.


Sore Fist - Instead of only being uninterested by this preview, I turn livid and my blood begins to boil. I marvel as to how this project ever got financed and I am certain I could film something superior using a hand puppet or a vacuum as the star character. The movie has washed up actors, recycled plots and relies on crotch jokes. I’m so incensed, I’ll debate heading to the cinema to purchase a ticket and wait outside the theater before it plays. Then anyone I spot entering, I’d be able to punch in the face. I wouldn’t even fear future consequences because I’m convinced a court of law would deem my actions as reasonable. Obviously the plaintiff was encouraging the director to make a sequel and needed some sense knocked into them.

Can't We All Just Get Along?

(Observation)

We're well into the twenty-first century now and people around the world are still speaking all different languages. As a matter of fact, I live in the United States and people here still speak many different languages. I think it's time people got together and decided on one language for everyone to learn. For God's sake, I sure hope it's English.

Actually, I'll have to say that it seems English is pretty much accepted as the international language of business. This is a good thing because most of us Americans pretty much suck at learning foreign languages.

Which brings me right into my next global issue-- can we decide on one standard system for measurements please? We've pretty much got the English system with feet and the metric system with meters. I'm American, grew up using English measurements, and yet even I can see that the metric system is the way to go. I remember we were going to switch over to the metric system some twenty years ago or so, but instead we just added metric measurements alongside our English measurements. Pretty darn pathetic. Wake up America and let's go metric once and for all.

In the mean time, can everyone please just drive on the right side of the road?