Big Pimpin: When you go for Thai food, the power move is to get a side of peanut sauce. That shit is like ordering a whole extra dish. You add that to some of your steamed rice and you've really got something there.

The other night I had this dream that Bert was crying. The crazy part was that his tears were chocolate milk. I was like concerned that he was crying and stuff and wanted him to be ok, but some part of me also thought that it was really fucking cool that he could cry chocolate milk tears. He was like a sad panda with upside.

Pared down version of a drunken ponderance: At this point in my life I have realized that no one but no one is going to fight for felicity for me. I'd say Malkmus lied, but he didn’t say anyone would. He just wishes someone would too.

There goes my burrito again.

I was talking with Jenn and she was documenting her first encounter with Tofutti Cuties and she said that they became her favorite dessert the moment she first tried them. So I said, "Love at first bite;" even as I was saying it, all I could think was: "Here's your fuckin' nickel, bitch." Keep antagonizing me...

Normally I listen to some 5:00 Rock style shit when I do my pushups (the rockin makes it easier). But, dude, the other day Rocky IV was on and I was getting ready to go play ball so I was doing my pre-ballin pushups, and I realized that it is heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeella easy to do pushups when watching Rocky. Sweet ass.

So Megan and I were having a conversation about what fruit you would choose if you could only eat one fruit the rest of your life. Her choice was peaches. Ew. Don’t even make me tell you my traumatic/scarring childhood peach story (I can taste the vomit in my mouth just thinking about the peaches/peach story combo). Anyways, so she asked me what I would pick. I sang, "AVO AVO CA DOS. AVO AVO CA DOS. AVO AVO CA DOS." She said that avocados are part of the NUT family. I said that she's nuts. I showed her the dictionary--which said that avocados are indeed a fruit--and she said that dictionaries can be wrong. I was like "dude, this ain't no fly-by-night dictionary, fool. This is Merriam motherfucking Webster's, baby."

Shrimp tails: why the fuck do restaurants feel the need to leave the tails on shrimp, particularly when they are in a soup or a dish where they are mingling with other things? I gotta fucking stop eating and put down my fucking utensil and rip off the fucking tail. This makes it hard to distribute shrimp bites evenly within a bite inclusive of the other elements of a given dish. Argh.

PS How about shrimp poo veins. Do you ever wonder--when you are eating shrimp that are so coated in something (e.g., the blessed walnut prawns)--whether the restaurant bothered to devein the poo vein? I have been on deveining-the-poo vein duty before; it is nothing fun. It doesn’t like smell like poo or anything, but it is time intensive.

Peas=squishy little boogers=nasty.

I bleach my whites. I have white socks that have gray toes/heels. My question is how come the gray parts don’t get bleached out? Why can't all colors be built like this so I can enjoy the stain-fighting power of bleach on all my casual cotton garments?

Does your life ever feel pixelated? Or maybe just like one of the 1s or 0s is wrong?

I think that if an or something book were sold, it would have to be marketed as a "bathroom book" instead of a "coffee table book." And, in an ironic-pun-twist-of-fate, there could easily be a whole chapter on poo. Heh.

Speaking of poo: So you know how I had that whole theory that an enema would "flush" out that whole 5-15 pounds of impacted poo in my body and then I would be so light that I could dunk (a sock (well that is it in a nutshell, sans sock explanation))? Well I got an email from Chad--who has the coolest nickname on earth, by the way; Advanced Search--with the following link:
http://www.snopes.com/toxins/fecal.htm
My first thought was, wow, the guy that wrote this thinks and writes about poo as much as I do. I wanna hang out with him. Cool. Then I realized that my dream of loadlightening-for-dunking was shattered. Back to square one. Time to get those jumping shoes with the platforms. If you don't know what I'm talking about, never mind.

Is there some official rule for the proper use of a versus an? I always just use the Force, but if I am going to be an English teacher, I should probably know this stuff.

Swim trunks: I live in San Francisco so it's not like I have a whole lot of use for swim trunks, but I do need them from time to time (mostly when I go back to LA). So, if you know me at all, you know I need to have at least one sweet pair. My theory on swim trunks is that the uglier they are, the cooler they are. Think bright cheesy flowery or gaudy prints. Or something.

Strategically stationed at the "impulse buy" area of the supermarket (by the registers), there were a bunch of boxes of Pepperidge Farms Milano chocolate and double chocolate cookies, and I was all, "Fuck my ass, I could rock some of those double chocolate cookies." And then I commented: "what kind of a fucking idiot would buy the regular Milanos now that they have Double chocolate Milanos? They don’t even cost more!" (and in all fairness to me, I think that is the second exclamation mark I have ever used on cheesepockets) Why the fuck do they even make the regular ones anymore? Then my friend I was with said, "Those Chessmen(?) are good too." So I said, "Those Chessmen(?) don’t have any chocolate in them. If you get those you are a fucking idiot too."

People that overexclimate (wow--cool word) are almost as bad as the people that throw the fuckin smiley faces around. I'm always like, "Shit bitch, you ain't even remotely that enthusiastic in person, fucko."

The worst thing about hotmail: no italics! I hate trying to express myself in writing without italics! It totally sucks!!!

See, that is annoying. But seriously, I hate not having italics at my disposal for email.

Soap=gotta be antibacterial. This specifically includes dish soap in the kitchen and hand soap in the bathroom. That gives you an antibacterial playing field in both of the hand-washing areas of the house. Which is really important. What the fuck is the point of washing your hands if you aren’t going to get them all-the-way clean?

Button fly pants: see, I can't deal with button-flys. I mean, I can't deal with redoing them every time I have to take a piss (especially considering how much water I drink, and therefore how often I have to pee). What I do for my 2 pairs of button-fly pants is just leave 2 of the middle buttons open fulltime. Heh.

Rafi just told me about this crazy fast (fast, fucker) that he's done where, amongst other things, you drink a quart of saltwater every morning. The saltwater has 2 teaspoons of salt in it and the idea is that it is the same density (I'm your density) as your blood so it doesn’t get absorbed into your system. Instead what it does is it goes through your body like blood and then when it has made its "rounds" it comes out your butt. You read that right. You shit piss. Oh my god. That might not end up being very pleasant, but that seems like something that would be kinda "cool" to check out, or something (it's therapeutic). He also said that if you do the whole fast (only drinking water or lemonade-with-maple-syrup), as your body "cleanses" itself, your tongue turns white. Ew. I don’t want that; I just wanna shit piss (just once).

Dude, I think I would rather lick ass than lick toes (assuming it's a clean ass).

We were out drinking the other night and when we got home Megan actually asked me if the potpourri bowl thing (dried rose petals and stuff) in the bathroom was mine. After several minutes of laughing, I slapped her. Just kidding (about the slapping part). But I would fight a girl.

So I was talking to Megara and she told me that she had just talked about me today cuz our friend Megan's son, Oliver, loves watching the vacuum cleaner (I too was a big fan/borderline fanatic back in the day). So I said, "What's not to like? And it's good, clean, family fun." Oi, get it?

Crooked baseball hats: OK, here is the thing. There are two kinds of people, those who rock the baseball hat crooked and those who don’t. From those of the kind who rock the baseball hat, there are two subsets. Those who look ok-to-cool with the baseball hat crooked, and those who look lame with the baseball hat crooked. Obviously you are trying to look cool if you are wearing the baseball hat crooked, so it is important to know which kind you are (if you do (rock it crooked, that is)). So here is what you should do: ask a friend that you trust and think has good taste if they think you look good with the baseball hat crooked, and heed their judgment. Me, personally, I don’t wear a baseball hat crooked so I don’t know which category I would fall under, but I think I would feel like I fell under the lame-o category, so that puts the kibosh on that right there. I focus my coolness elsewhere.

by Justin