Dealing With Father Issues While Getting A Speeding Ticket

Speeding? Is that really it? Or maybe the truth is, I wasn't going fast enough. Hmmm? There's always someone faster, isn't there officer? Someone you wished you'd pulled over. Someone who wouldn't be such an embarrassment? Someone who wouldn't be sitting here in his little hatchback on his way to his catering job, but driving a big truck on his way to the law firm or maybe back to the Marine barracks? Someone you could be proud of for once? But instead you got me. Well, I'm not responsible for that officer, you brought me to the side of the road, not the other way around, and at this point we both probably wish it had never happened, but I'm here, that's reality, and we have to deal with it.

And what comes next? You'll write me your little ticket and then you'll just disappear again and I won't see you for god knows how long until, once again, you just drop out of the sky to tell me about all the things I'm doing wrong and all the ways you know how I should fix them. Well, I have a news flash for you, officer, you're not so perfect yourself. Maybe I was speeding, but you didn't exactly look like you were out for a Sunday drive when you chased me down, so you might try getting off the high horse before you start talking about all the ways I've failed you.

And yes, I know I changed lanes without signaling. But did you see how many times I changed lanes and DID signal? How long I was driving UNDER the speed limit? Of course not, because you never see the good things I do, you just pay attention to the negative. And I'm sure when you get back to all your little friends, that's just the sort of stuff you'll tell them about me. You won't even mention that I was fifth in line for employee of the month last May, or that I'm applying to community college. You probably don't even know those things, do you officer? Of course not, because you never bother to ask, you just tell.

So fine, let's just get it over with. The truth is, I don't have the energy to hate you, officer. I've gotten to a pretty good place in my life by just forgetting that you exist. But you can't let it go at that, can you? It just burns you up to see me enjoying my life because I'm not doing it according to YOUR rules, YOUR hopes, YOUR dreams. And so you show up and make a spectacle out of things, just to remind me who's boss, just to try to bring me down. Well, if that's all you've got, then I feel sorry for you officer, I really do. Because I may be a speeder in a crappy car on my way to low paying job, but at least when I get there I'll be with people who care about me. And where will you be? Back in that little car. All alone. Waiting for someone else to fail so you don't have to think about the failure you've become. Mom was right about you, officer, you're are all the same.

Cynicism Suspended Indefinitely

As you may be aware, our team has been dealing with some internal issues, mostly stemming from one member’s increasing thirst for power and control, and declining interest in listening to opinions and concerns of other members. For these reasons I’m here to announce that I’ve suspended Cynicism indefinitely.

This was not a decision taken lightly, nor do I wish to undervalue the presence that a healthy Cynicism can have on the rest of the team. But as a team, we have rules, and Cynicism has been caught on numerous occasions in areas where he didn’t belong, including Love’s locker, and Hope’s gym bag. Further, his feud with Trust was something I’ve been willing to ignore as it seemed relatively harmless and good natured. However, the attack last week when Cynicism ‘accidentally’ hit Trust at high speed, and then backed over him while coming to his ‘aid’ has changed my mind. Trust is doing well, by the way, and expected to be back within days, but these actions have been detrimental to team morale, and cannot go unpunished.

Most of us have trouble remembering back to the days before Cynicism joined the team, and so it may be hard to imagine life without him. Rest assured, it is possible, and in fact, given the way that he’d become so vocal and dogmatic of late, many of you may find it a relief. Most of his responsibilities will be handed over to Belief, and I’d like you all to join me in cheering him on.

I would however ask that the rest of you exercise caution. I’ve compiled a brief list of things that I’m more likely to find reasonable as a result of this change, and I’d really hope that no one out there would take undue advantage of the situation.

I’ll believe I have termites, that I’ve won an Ipod, that this is the absolute most that I’m going to get for my trade in.
I will believe that you’re going to call me right back, that we’ll get together soon, that it was one of the best movies of the year.
I will believe that dreams come true, that good things happen to good people, that someone’s watching out for me.
I will believe the extended warranty is really a good deal, that you only had two beers, that this doesn’t make me look fat.
That I’m really going to lose ten pounds, that you really like my music, that I’ll start tomorrow.
That I really need four new tires, that my radiator needs to be flushed for just 59.95, that I can be anything I want to be.
I will believe the studies about drinking being good for me, and the ones about it being bad, and the ones that say all the other studies are crap.
That it wasn’t your fault, that you were only joking, that these things happen to everyone.
That this will really get ink and grass stains right out, that this smell really attracts the opposite sex, that there’s no obligation whatsoever and this free football phone it mine to keep.
I will believe in bunnies with eggs, fairies with teeth, and fat men with lots of presents and no cholesterol or diabetes concerns.
That I have nothing to lose, that there’s always tomorrow, that you really just have a headache.
That you can hardly tell it’s overcooked, that no one is looking at my lazy eye, that the worst part is over.
That you’re proud of me, that the slide show wasn’t boring, that people were laughing on the inside.
I will beleive that you really really love me.

This is obviously not an exhaustive list people, but I think you get the idea. I’m not so naive as to believe that we won’t suffer as a result of this suspension. Financially, I think this move may really hurt us. There’s a good chance we’ll end up with tons of crap we don’t need or want. But money is not the only thing that matters. This was a game once. It was supposed to be fun. Lately, I think I speak for the team in saying that Cynicism’s presence had taken most of the fun out of it. I’m hoping this suspension will help us, all of us, remember what we’re here to do, and enjoy it.

Thanksgiving In The ER - A Timeline

10:13am - Patient arrives complaining of headache. Says that today is his 46th birthday and that he has had dreams since he was five years old which have all indicated that he was going to die on his 46th birthday. Patient is afraid he's going to die today. Head CT, psych consult.

11:01am - Consult board for new patients, get hit in the head with an orange. Discover psych patient redistributing her lunch with the following commentary: "I don't LIKE bananas. I don't LIKE tuna." Dodge remaining food items.

12:47pm - Sew up art line for elderly female patient. Towards end of the procedure patient grabs hold of large section of hair on physician's head and begins to shake with the following commentary: "Today must be your day to hate WOMEN."

2:05pm - Patient arrives with steak knife in his chest, self inflicted. Patient also has freshly dyed, bright pink hair, traces of dye still on his skin. Patient complains that, "it hurts," to which someone asks just what he was expecting when he stuck a steak knife in his chest. Patient becomes deadly serious and delivers the following commentary: "I was expecting to be able to go into the 9th dimension and tell them to stop."

3:55pm - Psych pronounces 46 year old with headache and non stop death dreams to be of sound mind. Radiology still has not returned head CT.

4:05 - Eat small portion of turkey. Rubbery. Slightly undercooked.

4:10 - CT for 46 year old comes back. Giant glioblastoma.

4:30 - Deliver news to 46 year old patient, begin setting up neuro consults, patient interrupts, asks how long he has. Explain that it's not clear, more qualified specialists can tell him more. Patient repeatedly asks if he has less than a year, if in fact he's going to die at 46. Finally admit that the CT does not look good, that without effective treatment a year is probably optimistic. Patient strangely calm. Try to set consults and appointments, but patient says he's not interested and leaves with the following comments: "I've known this was going to happen my whole life. Nothing you can do about it now. I'd like to spend the rest of my last Thanksgiving with my family."

Letter To Calvin Klein Regarding Stovepipe Hats

Dearest Calvin,

You may or may not have heard, but I've recently been cast in an off off off Broadway production (technically it's in Bend, Oregon) called Lincoln: The Man They Named A City In Nebraska After (the title is still being debated, a little on the nose for my taste). I play Lincoln. And in doing so I've become incredibly familiar with an item the world of fashion has forgotten for far too long. The stovepipe hat.

I don't need to tell you that fashion is pretty much a ridiculous carousel of recycling, ridicule, and theft. One minute bell bottoms are a Halloween costume, the next Ashton Kutcher's got them on at a Laker game. It certainly doesn't take a genius to see that your industry is just pillaging the past, more or less in order, to keep the production lines humming. Not that I'm complaining. I happen to save everything, so I've simply had to dig into my old wardrobe to keep 'up to date' (very much looking forward to the day I can put on the old parachute pants again).

But instead of yet another look at the 60's, 70's, or 80's, I'm proposing you dig a little deeper when seeking your 'inspiration' for the spring line: the 1860's, a decade of real sophistication and casual elegance (even those rebel uniforms were pretty snazzy). And nothing says 1860 like the stovepipe, which I'm confident your branding ability could turn into the must have item for next year. Get Charlieze Theron to wear one to the Oscars, Fifty Cent to slap one on in a video and the next thing you know, Cha-ching!

But I'm not in this for financial reward. I want you to keep every penny. I just want to wear the hat. I've never really had a good head for hats: baseball and cowboy styles have always fit me like lampshades. So you can imagine my surprise when I first donned my Lincoln costume and discovered that the stovepipe looked like a majestic extension of my body. Sadly, the few times I've worn it out I think that people have been too distracted by its oddity to really notice how damn good I look while wearing it. I went to a bar the other night with some of the guys and though a couple of girls did make comments about the hat, they were generally not positive and I did not return with any numbers. But I'm telling you, if this were the 1860's I'm confident I'd be beating them off with a stick.

That's where you can make a difference. With your approval and energy, the stovepipe can become ubiquitous again, and rather than focusing on the hat, people will finally focus on me, looking amazing in the hat. I'm an aging man Mr. Klein. I've found the key to unlocking my potential late in life, but not, with your help, too late. The stovepipe can be the beginning of a revolution for us both - helping you add millions to the millions you already have (maybe not such a revolution for you) and helping me meet that someone special and finally move out of my old room at mom's house. All I ask is that you find one and try it on. If the site of yourself with this fabric cylinder, this halo for mortal men, this small portion of chimney coming out of your head, doesn't convince you that this should be the cornerstone of your upcoming efforts, I dare say not only the fashion industry, but America herself, will have lost her way.

Blog Entry Ideas For Monday That Ultimately Went Nowhere

1. What I Did Last Night Between The Hours Of 11PM And 7AM While Lying Horizontally In My Darkened Room

2. Reasons Jessica Simpson Would Make A Great Partner On The 100,000 Dollar Pyramid

3. Successful Pick Up Lines - My Experience

4. Scientology - A Logical Sounding Explanation

5. Places In Alabama I've Always Wanted To Visit

Teens Debate When They Were Most Drunk

Three teens were enjoying cigarettes outside a bookstore cafe last night while vigorously debating when they had been the most drunk. One of the teens argued that it had been in Los Angeles, when he'd had to be carried home by his friends and had vomited on one of their shoulders. Another countered that in fact, it had been on one of their trips to Phoenix. The third agreed, remembering that was the time they'd gotten into the fight with the host's friend and sent him to the hospital, something he said the host found 'hilarious'.

The second teen said that wasn't the time he was referring to, though that had been a good one. He said he was speaking of the time they'd gone to the party in Scottsdale.

The first teen said he didn't remember any party in Scottsdale.

The second teen said that was precisely his point.

The first teen's cell phone rang. He answered and then yelled at the party on the other end, saying that he had 'already fucking told' them that they were waiting outside the bookstore. He then hung up and snubbed out his cigarette.

I can't wait, he said, till I get my goddamned license.

Thanksgiving Fired By Mall

Thanksgiving, I appreciate you coming in. You've no doubt seen Santa and the candy canes all over the place, so I won't sugarcoat it. You're fired. Canned. Over. And if you ask me it's about time. How long has it been since you really moved product? I'm not talking turkeys and grocery store BS, I'm talking about something I can sell at the Gap. Something that brings the folks in, that gets the wallets open. You think we can do that with cornucopias? Not these days pal. The truth is you're in the way and me and the boys, we've decided not to take it anymore. We're giving November to Christmas. Yes, the whole thing. Because he's an earner, you understand? He shows up, the registers ring. No more people sitting on their hands waiting for you to clear your crap out, we're turning the whole place over to Christmas the day after Halloween, and that's all there is to it.

Don't cry. Look, you take your lumps, but it doesn't mean you're through. How many years have I been telling you about your potential? It's Thanks Giving. If you'd just get off the whole Mayflower and 'thanks' thing and focus on the 'giving' you could have something. You figure out how to work an Xbox in with the cranberry sauce, you could be golden again. To be honest, you might even be able to steal October. Halloween is still moving the costumes and candy, but overall he's ripe for the picking. Hell, they all are. If it were up to me we'd roll Santa's fat ass out the day after Father's day, forget the rest of you lazy bastards. But that's a conversation for another day. Right now it's time to take your colored leaves, your googley eyed turkeys, and your cornucopias and hit the road. That act might still work in the grocery stores. But the mall, the mall is for closers.

Voice Mails Which Did Not Result In Callbacks

Hey Dave, Tim here. I'm such an idiot. You know how I always play the dates of my mother and father's birthdays in the lotto? Well, damned if I didn't win. I know, it's like 280 million or something. Anyway, I left my jacket at your house on Thursday and I'm 99 percent sure that the ticket is in the left side pocket. I swear, if my head weren't attached... give me a call when you get in and I'll swing by to pick it up. The ticket. You can have the jacket. Talk to you soon.

Greg - Stan. Listen, when you asked if that bomb in the basement was armed and I said no, I hope that you understood I was saying no, it wasn't not armed, as in, it wasn't armed before, but it is now. In retrospect I probably should have just said yes, it is armed, but Katie's been getting my help with her grammar lessons this week, all on double negatives, and damned if it hasn't gotten my head all turned around. Long story short - yes, it's totally armed, do not, under any circumstances go down there. Sorry for the confusion.

Hi. You don't actually know me, but I saw you on running in the park the other day and I noticed that you dropped your water bottle. It fell right out of your hand as you went past that trashcan, but I was able to get in there and get it back. It's pretty nice, looks like an Aquifina, empty, but still, I figured you'd want it back. You seemed really sweet. You can tell a lot about a person when you follow them in a car for 56 blocks. Based on your movements, your silky black hair, your lithe frame, your glowing skin, I really felt like you were the kind of person I'd like to know. By the time you got back to your house I was so nervous I couldn't say anything so I looked up your number with your address, and... I guess I'm rambling... what I wanted to say was that I have your water bottle and I'd really like to give it back to you, and then if you're interested we might get coffee, and then... who knows. Wouldn't it be a funny story for a wedding, like giving a toast and talking about how we met because I dug your water bottle out of the trash. I don't want to sound weird. I hope this isn't weird. Anyway, the important thing is that I have your water bottle. Call me.

Look Clair, I've been thinking, and I feel like it's time for you to decide. I'm confident that you'll recognize, as I have over these last few weeks without you, that what we have is special. I understand your attraction to Steve, and I know that he's a famous male model from a wealthy family and that I'm still managing this Starbucks until my aluminum foil based sculpture gains the recognition it deserves, but it takes more than just endless fancy dinners and a few appearences in the society pages to win over the girl I know. It takes sincerity, honesty, and love (re: the ED, I'm going to look into some Viagra as soon as I get that raise, and until then we can always cuddle). I'm not wild about it, but we've been through a lot (remember when I cut your hair while you were sleeping and sold it to a wig shop so I could afford to bring you home to meet my folks?) and I think that even this infidenlity is something that we can overcome. But I can't continue to be the bigger man with you and Steve showing up in People every week. It's made it hard to explain to people that we're still together. Shit, I need to make a couple double mocha lattees, but I guess what I really wanted to say was I think I'm going to have to insist that you make a decision, once and for all. Him or me Clair? Him or me?




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52 Year Old Asks Son To Get Him High For Birthday

Last night in a coffee shop a man told his son that he wanted to get high for his 53rd birthday. His son, who appeared to be in his early 20's, laughed, but the man said that he was serious, that the only present he wanted from his son was his assistance in getting high. He said that he didn't know the first thing about procuring the necessary smoking equipment, pipes, bongs, etc, let alone where to find marijuana, and that while he didn't want to imply that his son was some sort of druggie, he had his suspicions that not only did his son know where to find such things, but that he had probably experimented with them.
His son asked if the man was having a midlife crisis.
The man said that he simply woke up one morning and realized that he had no idea what it was like to be high, and that this had struck him as extremely odd. He said he didn't really regret abstaining all these years or how he'd raised his kids, that he felt he was right to point out the dangers of drugs and alcohol and that he felt his kids had become responsible adults because of it. All the same, while he didn't feel his death was imminent, he said that after being around for half a century that one comes to look at time a little differently, and that it had been eating at him for some time that he'd probably missed his opportunities to enjoy this sort of experimentation. He pointed out that he could hardly ask his coworkers or neighbors for help. And then it hadoccurred to him that his birthday might provide just the right opportunity, and his son the perfect companion, for such an experience. He said he was sorry if his assumptions offended his son, and if he couldn't or wouldn't help, he said he would understand.
His son said he was simply surprised, but that certainly, if his father was serious, he could probably make arrangements. He asked if there were any other off the wall, long buried fantasies that his father wanted to act on. Dropping acid? Learning guitar? Following a band around the country?
Let me get stoned, he said, and I'll give it some thought.

Referring To Yourself In The Second Person: An FAQ

1. What is the second person?
The second person refers to the use of the pronoun 'you'.

2. Should I be referring to myself in the second person?
Absolutely. Traditional pronouns, I and we, have become tired and lame. Some have turned to the third person as an alternative, referring to themselves by their own name and the like, but this fad has run it's course and joined the first person as passe. The second person transcends the implied limitations of other forms of address allowing a degree of intimacy and urgency that would otherwise be impossible.

3. How do I do it?
Easy. When referring to yourself, simply replace the word "I' with the word 'you'. For example, if asked what you'd like for breakfast, instead of, "I'd like some pancakes", respond, "You'd like some pancakes."

4. Isn't that confusing?
Those who lack a certain level of cultural awareness and sophistication may become confused, which is all the more reason to declare your independence from these philistines as soon as possible.

5. So when you say 'your independence' are you referring to me or you?
Philistine.

6. I guess I'm just still not getting it. Or would that be, you guess you're still not getting it?
Imagine narrating a story so the audience is made to feel 'in the moment'. Ex. "You're walking down the street, you see someone, you feel them wishing they we're as cool and culturally aware as you." This way the audience is able to fully embrace the 'experience' of being the speaker and the speaker asserts that this experience is worthy of being experienced first hand (via the second person).

7. I just tried... Sorry, You just tried it on your wife and she told you to stop acting like a jackass.
Being on the grammatical bleeding edge and embracing emerging concepts ahead of the masses may have consequences for home and work relationships. Those worth knowing will adapt, and those who fail merely chain themselves to a lower societal echelon.

8. And you really don't think this makes you sound like an idiot?
Which you are you referring to? If you mean me, no, I sound incredibly sophisticated. If you mean you, then I can only recommend following the guidelines above as a means of elevating your speech.

9. But see, it's confusing. No one ever knows who you're really referring to.
You means you, and you is everyone.

10. Is there a place where I, I mean you, can practice until you're ready to try it in the real world?
There are weekly second person support meetings in most major cities to help deal with common issues that stem from embracing this evolution, i.e. beatings, firings, divorce. (You host the one in NYC if anyone wants to stop by)

You enjoyed answering these questions, and if there's anything you can do to be of further assistance, people should feel free to contact you.

You wish you all good luck.

Plans For Saturday?

We'd love to have you guys over. Feels like it's been a while. We were thinking about firing up the grill, bottle of wine, maybe a little scategories or hearts? Should be fun.

It's funny, Mary thinks you probably won't come. She thinks you were 'weirded out' last time. You weren't weirded out were you? I mean, I showed you guys those photos because I thought we were bonding. Besides, you're our neighbors, so it's not like it was anything you weren't going to see eventually, right? (BTW, appreciate the suggestion, but Mary and I just feel like drapes or blinds don't go with our design scheme) I thought the evening went well. So you guys aren't hot tubbers, big deal. Where is it written that neighbors need to get naked and hop in the bubbles together the first time they hang out? Like I told Mary, there's plenty of time for that down the road. You guys preferred cards, we played cards. You preferred keeping score with pad and pen, we usually have losers remove an article of clothing. Po-tah-to, po-taa-to, am I right?

I will apologize once more for mine and Mary's brief spat. When she threw the glass of wine, she was aiming at me, and I can tell you from prior experience that when she's not three sheets to the wind she's usually spot on. Once, I was on the couch and she clocked me from the kitchen, had to be like fifty feet. The point is, you only got hit because we were sitting right next to each other, and that was only because we were having such a good time, right?

And, I hesitate to bring this up because I feel like it's been beaten into the ground, but when I was giving you some dry clothes and I suggested that it might be a hoot to try wearing one another's underwear, I really just meant it as a gesture of friendship, nothing more. Sort of like blood brothers. Only different.

Regardless, since the evening ended shortly after that and we haven't heard from you since, I guess that Mary's a little worried that it didn't go so well. I told her that she's imagining things, that you guys have probably been busy, what with your house going up for sale and all (you sure don't stay put very long do you?). But they don't call us back, she says. When we knock on the door they don't answer, even if we just saw them go inside, she says. When we mail them invitations I just find them later in their garbage, she says. But I told her, you're a couple on the go-go-go. That's why I figured it was probably easiest to email you at work. (Mary found a business card in your garbage, she's quite the little treasure hunter. You wouldn'tbelieve what she's found in the Wilson's trash. I've got a box of things, I'll show you Saturday) And if for some reason you don't get this, I'll try heading up to your office later in the week. Don't worry, I'll make sure you guys don't miss the fun.

Festivities commence around seven. We'll heat up the tub just in case.

Your Pals Next Door

p.s. really ought to open your blinds once in a while, it's got to be like a dungeon over there

Please Do Not Hang Up

Please do not hang up.

Your call is important to us, otherwise, why would we be paying people in India three dollars an hour to answer it? Representatives are currently working with other customers who were unable to follow simple directions or consult our website which, while certified for reading comprehension levels down to the second grade, still proves 'confusing' for those with diminished capacity or a habit of drinking their breakfast. Rest assured that our foreign intermediaries will quickly hear and then dispatch with the trivial complaints ahead of yours through a carefully choreographed dance of heavily accented misunderstanding that reliably forces callers to question whether they should be wasting their time and ours on such non-issues when there are real problems facing the world (earthquakes, hurricanes, Tom Cruise is having a baby!). And then someone will be right with you.

While you wait we suggest you try the following remedies. Look at the directions again, bearing in mind that they've successfully been followed by monkeys, rats, and a tortoise named Bobo in our lab tests. If you're still having problems, try looking out the window. Isn't it a beautiful day? Do you really want to be inside talking about 'problems' when you could be out on a cholesterol and stress reducing walk? (In the event that it's raining or dark where you are, isn't now a good time to curl up with a book, or maybe a simple to follow set of directions?) If you're unable to match the wits of Bobo and can't convince yourself you have anything better to do, please remain on the line.

It's hard to say how much longer the wait will be, and when you think about, who can really say how much longer any of us has? It's entirely possible that you'll die of a massive coronary or stroke before our representative can reach you, and the lasting memory your friends and family will take away will be that you died while waiting for customer support. It's probably not the legacy you wanted but hey, you REALLY need an answer right? You REALLY can't follow those directions. So sit back, relax, and imagine them eulogizing your empty and untimely death.

Your call is very important to us.

Jack The Married Australian - Observations 10/29

10:35 Group arrives at bar to find Jack The Married Australian hitting on Female Friend
10:36 Member of Group (also female but sadly not as attractive as Female Friend) pulls Female Friend aside to alert her to fact that she's seen Jack in another bar earlier where he talked extensively about being married. Female Friend is skeptical.
10:38 Group member (female) asks Jack what happened to his ring. Jack laughs, makes comment about it being a costume, claims to spot friends, leaves.
10:39 Jack The Australian is trashed as slimy by assembled group.
10:48 Jack The Australian's wallet is located under group's table. Contents: Family pictures confirming married status as well as children. Also: 400$
10:49 Vigorous debate. Briefly: Jack is a slimeball. The money should be pocketed by the group and used for night of drinks at another bar. The wallet (empty) should be left with bartender so Jack can eventually claim it. Conversely: Jack is a slimeball. Keeping his money makes the group members no better. The wallet should be returned ASAP. Moving (and buzzkilling) speech by group member (male - also: has crush on Female Friend) results in decision to pursue second option.
10:55 Two group members (males) locate Jack in neighboring bar and return wallet. Jack is overjoyed and endlessly thankful. Insists on buying them drinks.
10:58 Jack The Australian returns with group members, thanks all, apologizes for prior behavior, buys round in thanks.
11:20 Another round on Jack
11:30 Shots on Jack
11:40 Third round on Jack
11:58 Everyone is speaking in Australian accents
12:25 Jack's oratory on why marriages don't count on other continents is surprisingly convincing.
1:04 Fourth round on Jack
1:05 Everyone loves Jack The Australian. Group members comment to one another about how they're getting to drink the 400$ despite having done 'the right thing'.
1:06 Group member (male - crush on Female Friend) notices Jack the Australian has arm around Female Friend.
1:30 Fifth round on Jack. Group member (male - crush on Female Friend) abstains.
1:55 Jack The Australian kisses Female Friend at table.
2:07 Jack The Australian offers Female Friend a taxi home. Group member (male - crush on Female Friend) tells Female Friend he'll gladly give her a ride. Female Friend leaves with Jack.
2:08 Group member (male - crush on Female Friend) excoriates group for allowing Female Friend to leave with Jack The Married Australian. Fellow group member reminds all whose idea it was to locate Jack and return the wallet.
2:12 Group member (male - crush on Female Friend) exits bar alone.

Best News For Park City, Utah, EVER!

Residents of Park City, Utah:

Incredible news! A once in a lifetime opportunity! I'm willing to be your neighbor!

As you may well know there are currently a number of fine American and international cities competing to play host to me and my entourage for the next few years, and I'm proud to announce that you're on the short list! And just between you, me, and the lamp post, I'm pulling for you.

Obviously at this point you're probably wondering what you can do to secure this incredible 'get' for yourself and your town. How can you, the average millionaire citizen of Park City, help your town compete with the tempting offers from places like Waco, TX, Pittsburgh, PA, and Little Rock, AR? Simple - buy my house!

That's right. Not only am I willing to live among you, I'm willing to let you, the community, be partial or total participants in owning my home. I've picked out a nice one, Frank Lloyd Wright inspired, 35 acres, 7.5 bedrooms (what exactly is a half bedroom?), 8 baths, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you about the views. It's on the market for about 8 million, and I'm willing to accept community participation to cover the present 7.8 million dollar shortfall.

Suggestions for raising this sum include but are not limited to: fundraising dinners (I'm willing to appear if someone wants to cover my airfare), sale of autographed memorabilia (my signature or yours, whichever you think is worth more), and the organization of some sort of pseudo-religious tax exempt entity in my honor (that's how they dragged L. Ron Hubbard out to LA). Bear in mind these are just suggestions and certainly are not intended to stifle your creativity.

I know that after the Olympics and Sundance you thought it was over for your little town, but here's the moment to transcend those minor 'happenings' and finally put your city on the map. So stop daydreaming about coming over to see me for a cup of sugar (actually the estate is gated and I'm sure there will be dogs, but leave your request with security and someone will be in touch) and make it happen. For you, your family, and your future.

Best of luck Park City.

Mr. Kyle

p.s. If you're a Tucson resident looking to hasten my departure contact Jill at the Run Him Out On A Rail campaign. Every dollar brings us one step closer to putting all this ugliness behind us.

Excerpt of Conversation That Resulted In Einstein's Reincarnation As Brad Pitt

E: So I was close?
G: You were in the neighborhood.
E: I knew it. So you're sending me back to finish?
G: Everyone goes back.
E: This is fantastic.
G: But you're not going to finish.
E: Oh no, I'm close, you said so yourself. A couple years I'll have it all sewn up.
G: Right, well, I'm guessing you'll be less interested in all that next go around.
E: Less interested? Are you nuts! I mean that with all due respect your... you know, God.
G: Al, I'm not going to lie to you. You're not getting the big brain next trip.
E: Oh.
G: But trust me, you're not going to miss it. Don't misinterpret this, but you're going to be incredibly hot. And you remember Jane Mansfield, Marilyn Monroe?
E: Sure.
G: Nothing compared to what I've got planned. And they're all going to be after you.
E: Thanks all the same, but I'd really prefer to get back to work.
G: I know you would, and technically I can't stop you. Once you're there it's all up to you.
E: Well that settles it. I vow to finish my unification theory. With God as my witness, I... what's my name going to be?
G: Brad. Brad Pitt.
E: Brad? Really?
G: You'll make it work.
E: Very well then. With God as my witness, I Brad Pitt will solve the puzzle that lies at the heart of our universe, I will answer the questions that underlie our existence, I will know the mind of... well, of you.
G: I'll be eagerly awaiting your conclusions.
E: I'm serious. I'm going to do it.
G: I'm sure you will. Best of luck.
E: You'll see God, you'll see.
G: Okay. Okay. Just wash your hair this time.

Notice of Breech of Contract Suit Filed By Person You Were On Night Of August 19th

Dear sir,

This is notice of a breech of contract lawsuit being filed against You by my client, The Person You Were On The Night of August 19th. As you may recall, after a lengthy internal discussion you and my client negotiated a set of acceptable goals and circumstances to be collectively pursued in the coming months, and, to insure their implementation, wrote down and signed the document containing the agreed to terms, what will from now on be referred to as 'the contract'.
The details need not detain us here, my client has contacted you numerous times in recent weeks regarding your failure to live up to the central clauses, i.e. the gym, the garden, the novel. He's been more than considerate in allowing you to shuffle and move deadlines. But your actions of the last week have dissolved all trust and made clear your complete lack of intention to meet the agreed to terms.
Putting aside the lawyer talk for a second, let me just say on a personal level that I'm not sure what gave you the idea that purchasing a 'minivan' rather than the agreed to 'red convertible' was remotely acceptable, but it's a mistake you will pay for dearly. As he expressed in no uncertain terms during your discussion, The Person You Were On The Night of August 19th was afraid of getting older and desperately seeking items and actions to assure his youth and vigor. Since you've attained this mammoth affront to vehicular taste my client has been subject to stares and comments that may have irrevocably damaged his psyche and youthful reserves. A coworker asked him if he drove that car to 'bingo' for christ's sake! You think a jury won't be sympathetic when they hear that?
So my client has given up hope that's you'll ever right this ship, and rightly so I might add. We've no other recourse but to seek damages, both compensatory and punitive, for your wanton disregard of the contracted terms. You may think you've moved on, but The Person You Were On The Night Of August 19th is not prepared to go quietly into past like so many of the other People You Were with whom you've made and broken agreements. You've crossed the wrong You this time.

See you in court,

Your Lawyer

p.s. you show up in that damn minivan and I'll shoot you myself

Agnostic Babysitter Faces Crying Eight Year Old

Last night a self professed ‘adamant agnostic’ babysitter was confronted by an eight year who came out of his bedroom in tears after having realized that his mother was eventually going to die. It was entirely unclear what prompted this realization. The young boy simply kept repeating ‘don’t let my mommy die.’ The babysitter assured the boy that his mother was fine and that she would be home very shortly. Once the boy stopped crying he began to pepper the babysitter with questions about life, death, the afterlife, the bible, vampires, zombies, ensoulment, and the current status of his grandfather’s remains which had been interred for about two years. The babysitter mostly claimed not to know or explained that these were questions best posed to the boy’s mother.
The mention of the mother once again got the boy worried about her eventual death. When he asked what would become of her the babysitter felt a sort of duty to her beliefs to tell the boy that she suspected that nothing would become of her, that her remains would be eaten by bacteria and insects, and that once her organs stopped functioning she would cease to exist save for in the memories of those who loved her. The soul was a myth, as was Heaven. She felt this was the real test of her lack of faith.
Instead, she assured him that there was a Heaven and that his mother would wait for him there. The boy asked if the babysitter would also be there.
Sure, she told him, why not.

Attempts To Impress Phrenologist Girlfriend Land Man In Hospital

A man in the ER for 'constant headaches' explained that he'd been taking a hammer to his own head in an effort to save his relationship with his phrenologist girlfriend. He said that she'd been talking about a trial separation and had referenced some of what she felt were the shortcomings of his personality, things she claimed to be able to sense by simply feeling the shape of his head. His Ideality area was apparently small while his Secretivness area was too large. She claimed to have noticed a very large Destructivness spot behind his ear, and most damning, she said the spot on the top left center of his head was almost devoid of Hope.
He said that over the last few weeks he'd been using a hammer to try to change the shape of his head, mashing in the troubling areas and swelling up the underdeveloped ones, in an effort to convince her that he'd really changed. He'd been able to mostly manage the pain though Advil and unexpected moments of unconsciousness, but when she'd actually moved out a day ago, he said that he'd really laid into himself and the pain had yet to subside.
The doctor said that it appeared that he did indeed have a significant lump and that a CT would be necessary to determine whether or not the skull had been fractured. He wondered what the man could have been thinking.
That's right in the Reasoning and Planning area, he said, I was hoping she'd feel I'd gotten smarter.

Note From The Dog You Sent To Live "On A Farm"

It's me. I made it. I know, I'm as surprised as you. Honestly, the whole thing sounded a little too good to be true. Big open fields to run around in? Lots of other dogs to play with? And coming right on the heels of that unfortunate 'biting Aunt Gwen' incident, I'll admit to wondering if the whole thing wasn't some sort of code for 'take the dog to the pound and have him euthanized'.
Boy was I wrong! I don't want to disparage my former home, but this place rocks. And it's not just about the scenery and the license to 'run around'. It's really about the relationships. The dogs here, well, they're just incredible. One of the Lassies lives in my barn. Some people say she's a snob. I say, who else is going to teach us to write letters home and use words like disparage?
Anyway, we're having a sort of doggie Olympics this weekend (it's not nearly as formal as it sounds) and I just thought I'd throw it out there in case you wanted to try to make it. I'm in the stick chase and the sock tug, and, not to brag, but I think I've got a chance in the first one (I've been running a lot and I'm SOOOO thin now! Not that you got rid of me for being fat, but if that was it, problem solved!). I know you're really busy, and even before the Aunt Gwen thing you seemed to be wondering if you really wanted a dog, but it would be great if you made it out. I'd love to give you a nice big kiss (or we can just shake, are you in a relationship? you don't have a cat do you?).
So, you know, if you can make it, awesome. And if you happen to be impressed by my showing in either event, or my new slender physique, or my somewhat prodigious vocabulary and writing skills, I already checked with the big guy and he says you could still totally take me home. But no pressure. Either way. This place is great.

Your dog.

Man Fears Genius Stifled By Blog Format

A man in a coffee shop yesterday told a friend that he feared his enormous talents were hamstrung by the format of his current blog in which he purported to summarize conversations that he may or may not have actually overheard. He expressed an interest in continuing to bring these sorts of moments to his infinitesimally small readership, while at the same time freeing up the format in order to more broadly define and share his vision, namely, a photoblog with no pictures. He suggested that he might put his site through some changes over the weekend and relaunch his digital utopia the following Monday. He then predicted it would probably end up being a disaster.
His friend then removed his headphones and asked if the man had said something.
No, he said, nothing important.