More random thoughts.

I like to describe the way foods taste by taking a noun that is not a food and adding the letter “y” to the end of it. For example, “This gin tastes quite piney” or “This egg salad tastes quite molestery.”

People are opposed to condoms for strange reasons, but mine may be the oddest. I fear males may evolve to have condom like foreskins. It would make circumcision mandatory; because it would be impossible urinate, much less reproduce, with a foreskin condom penis.

I am bothered when pedestrians who are walking in the middle of the street wave you on as to say, “You have my permission to drive around me.” The last time this happened the pedestrian was the walkin’, smokin’, lawn mowin’ retard of my neighborhood. I’m sure yours has one too. He stopped and waved me on while standing in front of my drive way. I clearly had my turn signal on. I wonder if this developmentally disabled man had finally given up on life. For you see, this was the first time I had seen him smoking. Maybe he was waving me on in a gesture that said, “I’m calling it quits. Just run me over!” Of course at the slow velocity one goes when turning into an uphill, narrow driveway it would not have been enough to kill him. So, the lesson of this story is if you try to convince someone out of suicide don’t say, “Even a retard can kill themselves. You’re taking the easy way out.” Not true I say, not true.

I was in a restaurant the other day and this woman kept on wantonly using the word retarded as an adjective. This flagrant use of the word retarded might offend some people. People often will say, “Hey, you shouldn’t just use the word retarded like that. I’m very offended because someone in my family had developemental disabilities. My (insert relative) was retarded.” Unfortunately this isn’t the case with all people though. However, I found away around that. “You shouldn’t say retarded. My president is retarded.”

Addressing me by an old nickname I don’t remember going by such as “creepy” then proceeding to tell me you’re getting drunk because you’re so happy you just got out of prison after serving a 14 month sentence for assaulting the dude with a deadly weapon who fucked your mom one week after your dad’s funeral is a sure fire way to be dropped from my buddy list. God, I hope that guy doesn’t read this.

No one past the age of 10 says the word pussycat earnestly. If they do say pussycat they’re just looking for an excuse to say pussy. So, really, no mature human being says the word pussycat.

I think Asian women can be attractive. However, women who are obviously of European descent, but somehow look Asian creep me the fuck out.

I want to set up a camp that would be like a fat camp, but only for kids with ADD, ADHD, and just general problems paying attention. There would be activities for the children to help them to learn to focus. However, for the life of me I can’t think of what to call the place but a concentration camp. I shared these thoughts with a couple of married friends. One of my friends got upset. She wasn’t offended, but she said she had already had a similar idea for a T-shirt. The front would say, “Adolf’s Fat Camp” and the back would read, “Lose the weight… Concentrate!”

One day I joined match.com because it was 5 in the morning. I was tired of watching videos on the net and didn’t want to go to the same 3 websites I visit over and over again. I was bored so I thought, “What the hell… why not?” One of the things you do for the website for your profile is put a headline next to your picture. My headline now is a Groucho Marx quote which Woody Allen quoted in the beginning of one of his movies. I had to change it after my original caption of, “Who wants a whoopin’?” was rejected.

On a scale from 1 to 5 with 1 being strongly disagree and 5 being strongly agree I would give the statement “I would like to raise the Rensis Likert from dead for the sole purpose of murdering him again,” a 6. Seriously… that guy was an asshole.

Why is it, do you think, that other countries aren't having the same problems with illegal Mexican immigrants? It's just further proof that America is the greatest country in the world. Some geographers and cartographers may tell you there are different reasons for the influx of these illegals, but I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion of those particular professions loyalties to our country. Why do we need maps of other places that aren’t America anyway?

I call people who only go to church at Christmas egg-nog-stics… and sinners.

I find that telemarketers and Evangelical Christians are very similar to telemarketers. We live in a nation that is fully aware with the basic teachngs of Christianity for the most part. When Evangelical Christians try to convert you they’re either trying to sell you shit that don’t want or already have.

I love to piss, but I hate to shit. Pissing is like a little vacation, but shitting is like extra work that you don’t get paid for.

I know Karate is a noun, but I love when it is used as a verb. Like if someone were to say, “I go to drug stores and wait for old ladies to pick up their prescriptions. When they step up to me I Karate their bitch asses!”

Upon exiting work one day I noticed all my co-workers cars wouldn’t start due the cold winter weather. I have never had this problem even though my car is older than most of my co-workers’ cars. I think it’s because I pretend that my car has friends and family and I have threatened their lives if my car happens to fuck up on me. My car has never failed me. Ah, the power of positive thinking. The one exception is my computer. I know why. No matter how much shit you threaten your computer with it knows a lot more dirty secrets about you then you do about it. Your computer has you by the balls.

My friend was smoking outside a bar one night and a homeless lady tried to bum a cigarette off him. He lied and said he did not have another cigarette. This is one case where lying is the polite thing to do instead of saying, “I have 3 left, but they’re mine so go away.” People always try to bum cigarettes on the street, but that never happens with anything else. “Hey, that a nice ham sandwich there. You think I can bum one off you?”

There is a local shopping plaza that you will often be approached by drunks for spare change with sob stories. They need money for gas or something is their excuse. I plan to keep a bottle of Jack Daniels in my car for now on. “I don’t have any spare change, but here’s a bottle of bourbon. Maybe you can sell it.”

The first of my older essays.

I will be posting some old essays here. Many of them I wrote back when I was doing old MLA style so there are two spaces after the periods and shit like that. That's what happens when you learn to type on an IBM. Thanks a shit ton public school. I wrote this one back in late 2000. If you've already read this then do it again. I was copletetely serious about this stuff and all things contained in this essay were well researched and based on fact. I have since lost the references page, but none of this is bullshit... I promise.

Why Things Cannot Be Solved

I figure I got a solution on how to get rid of all the homeless people in America. By my estimation, half of the homeless people in the US are drunken low lives who do not really have the right to live. The other half of this countries homeless population is just people down on their luck. People that got laid off from their job because the CEO of their company decided he wanted a new flashy sports or luxury car and decided laying off a couple hundred workers all across the US would be a quick way to raise the money. So, what do we do about this problem? We set one day aside to give every homeless person in this country of the drunken variety a bottle of heavy booze. Vodka, Everclear, Scotch, it really doesn’t matter what kind. We monitor them and make them drink the entire bottle in one sitting. Hopefully they are woozy, passed out, or maybe even if they and we are lucky, dead. Why would they being dead be luck you may ask? It is because phase two of this plan is to cook them and to force-feed them to the other half of the homeless population. Now we would have half the homeless population we did and they would be all without hunger for two to three days straight. Some skeptics out there might be questioning if this plan would really work. One major hole in my plan people might say is that you could only do it once. Not true is what I say. Ask yourselves this question. If you were forced to eat another human being don’t you think you might develop a drinking problem? I know I might. Therefore, this sets up a cycle. The next year we take all the homeless who have developed a drinking problem from having to eat another human being last year and do the same thing we did to the original drunks the previous year. Follow me on that one?

This plan would work out perfectly except for one problem, the guy who owns the Salvation Army. Many people do not know that there is a sole owner of the Salvation Army. The answer is that if there were homeless people around were no longer around the Salvation Army could not still exist. People just wouldn’t believe there was a purpose for it. The purpose of the Salvation Army is to help the homeless, right? Wrong! The vast majority of the American population thinks that it is a non-profit organization. This is not true!

Do you know the money you drop into buckets around Christmas time? The same ones held by Santas ringing bells that are outside of grocery stores. All the money that is put in to that bucket goes straight to the owner of the Salvation Army. He gets 99% of every penny, nickel, dime, etc. that goes into those buckets. The other 1% goes to the “homeless”. Who are these so-called homeless people who get this 1%? They are workers of the Salvation Army who is fired because they weren’t Santa enough for the owner’s taste. They receive a check from the Salvation Army, which is part of the 1% a year before being fired from the company. People on the inside of this company call the owner of the company the President. Common name for an owner I guess. It has a double meaning though. He is the commander in chief of an army, the Salvation Army. His right hand man is called The General. I think he is like the head of a notorious Polish crime family. Anyway, this guys job is to execute anyone who may do anything that might mean the destruction of the company, i. e. me if I ever put my perfect plan into getting rid of the homeless into effect.

It kind of makes you sick just to think about it doesn’t it? I would really like to stick it to a company like that. Maybe rent a Santa Claus suit, get myself a bell, and stand outside a grocery store around December 25. I would make myself a small profit. I doubt the owner of the company would care enough to send The General after me though. The cops would come after me probably though. Not because I am impersonating a legit charitable organization, but because they’re in on it too. They know what’s going on. They need to protect the Salvation Army because it is a large corporation. That’s what America is all about anymore, is big business.

Do you honestly think they will not let women and other minorities into certain parts of, or even into to begin with, the military because of safety concerns? That just isn’t the case. The reason is your biggest money-spending consumer that buys products from mainstream corporations is a white, upper-middle class male. If you let women or such minorities do certain things when it concerns the military a white, upper-middle class male will start feeling insecure about himself. This will lead him to either one of two paths. One scenario is that he will get depressed because of his insecurity and not perform as well at his job. This results in him getting fired. Because of this, he will not have as much money to spend, and that is not a good thing for the corporations. The other scenario is the that he gets angry, gives this country the middle finger, and leaves it for, let’s say, Japan. Now over in Japan it only takes five American cents to make a pair of Nike’s and it probably only costs one American dollar to buy those shoes over there. Nike is out of $99 because the government says its okay for a woman to participate in combat when a war happens even though it is peacetime now. (Well, it was peacetime when I wrote this so don’t go getting all offended if there is a war happening when you read this.) That is why things such as world peace or an end to hunger cannot be achieved. It’s just not good for business.

Heavyweight Champion of the Dorks!

Okay, so while I enjoy such things as role playing games, comic books, and other such things I have no where near the proficiency or knowledge of those things to be called an Über geek. So, besides my chronic virginity and still living at the house I grew up with what makes me think I am a bigger dork than most people in the country. I participate in a hobby know as e-wrestling or fantasy wrestling.

It is not like fantasy football where you pick real people that you expect to win. Oh no, you create your own wrestler or character. My character is a superhero type based off a They Might Be Giants song named Particle Man. He is very small. His large sidekick/manager is Universe Man. He is a huge, hairy fellow who dresses in a bondage mask and leather speedo. After you create your character and get accepted to a “federation” or “company” you compete in matches. The way you win matches is by writing role plays or promotional interviews saying how you are better than your opponent and expounding on your characters background or current story or angle he is involved in. To the average professional wrestling fan that I have talked to this hobby sounds asinine and pointless. Of course, the average wrestling fan seems to think reading or writing in your spare time is both asinine and pointless. To the non-fan I can only imagine how ridiculous they think this hobby is. I mean think about it for a second. You are pretending to be someone that is pretending to fight. There are several rules to writing these role plays. One is not to use your opponent in the role play without their permission. Then “owner” of the “company” that you “wrestle” in decides who wins the matches based on your interviews. After he chooses who wins then he writes a wrestling match and posts it on his website.

Prizes for winning matches, besides bragging rights, are title belts. Not real titles mind you, but just the agreement with your peers that you are a champion in the “company” that you belong to. I have won multiple tag belts, a few secondary singles titles, and held the main title for one “company” I was with. Not one of them has meant a shit to me. There are people who are bigger dorks than me. People who think this shit actually matters. People like the player, a person I had just become aware of mind you, who told me he was an “e-wrestling” legend. I have heard of cases where fucking marriages end over e-wrestling. Honest to Christ, if you participate in e-wrestling and are lucky enough to have someone who will have sex with you just quit. To a lesser extent there is a lot of lying, backstabbing, and other underhanded behavior going on this hobby on many players quest to be the best. I find this quest to be ridiculous at best. There is a difference between the best Monopoly player in the world and the best fantasy wrestling in the world. Normal people will actually give a shit if you’re good at Monopoly.

I was quite proud of myself when I pretty much stopped participating in this hobby before the age of nineteen and before age twenty I thought I had quit permanently. Then cut to earlier this year. I finally caved in and accepted that I was living with my mother. You have to understand she’s not home but two days of the week and I only pay for utilities, so it’s a pretty sweet deal. I mean, I’m not going to get an apartment unless it’s in a different city than the one I am currently living in. That’s how I keep on justifying it anyway. Add the adjective spineless to modify the word dork, because that’s indeed what I am.

Before I even started paying for the internet, because I was leaching off of someone else’s connection, my online friends from my past started slowly coaxing me back into the fake, fake sport of fantasy wrestling. I have committed to continue this hobby to the end of December. I sort of enjoy doing this as it forces me to write, but no matter how victories I rack up between now and Christmas I will still feel like a loser.

Now, here is a supplemental extra to the essay above. I have many wrestling promotional interview (promo) including one with a Satanic Easter bunny with a giant Chocolate Jesus. My last promo I was preparing to face off against a tag team called the Sex Symbols. Don’t be surprised when you are confused. Just try to enjoy the non-wrestling related dick jokes. Here is the last wrestling promo I wrote:

(The scene star wipes in. Particle Man is sitting his chair and Universe Man is sitting on his couch. Both are watching apparently watching Tex Avery cartoons as evidenced by the slapsticky sounds coming from the TV. The get a knock on the door and Particle Man leaps up. It is the familiar BACW cameraman, but this time he is accompanied by a young male production assistant. The PA holds a DVD in his hand. Particle Man looks at his disheartened face and sees several mushroom shaped welts and bruises covering the young man’s visage.)

Particle Man: Moses on the mountain! You don’t look so good there young man. What happened to you?

PA: Well, I was walking home from O’Mickey’s Irish Pub the other night. I had only drank a couple of beers—

Particle Man: Meaning two or meaning ten?

PA: I only had two pints I swear. Anyway, I was walking back to my loft and they surrounded me. A few days later they sent me this DVD in the mail. I showed it to the offices of BACW and a few of the wrestlers, but they just laughed and called me names. You’re my last resort Particle Man. I didn’t want to bother you, but I think I need a hero to protect me.

Particle Man: You say they attacked you. Who are they? Was is it the Sex Symbols?

PA: I don’t think it was the Sex Symbols. It was a group of five guys. They were all average sized guys wearing brown and flesh covered robes with cowls that covered there face. They assaulted me with the most absurd weapons, but there were enough of them to do quite a job on me. Look on the marks they left on my face. To tell you the truth I thought I had dreamed the whole thing even with the bruises on my face, but then they sent the video.

Particle Man: What was this absurd weapon or weapons they attacked you with citizen?

PA: Well, they circled me and beat the crap out of me with dildos.

Particle Man: What?!

(Universe Man starts to involuntarily giggle.)

Particle Man: Unholy plastic, prosthetic, phalluses you have got to be kidding me. I mean, I have encountered some weird cases in my day, but this one takes the cake.

Universe Man: Where cake? There going to be cake served today?

Particle Man: If this young man is telling the truth the only thing that is going to be served today is a big bowl of justice Universe Man. So what all this about this video Production Assistant?

PA: My name is Phi--

Particle Man: No need to reveal your secret identity.

PA: Well, it’s very cryptic. Why don’t we just watch it?

(Particle Man takes the DVD from the young PA and they watch it. A figure obfuscated by the shadows speaks in a disguised voice.)

Shadowy figure: I had my minions attack an employee of your company Mr. Batee. There will be more attacks. They will be increasingly more severe based on the position and amount of power the victim holds in your company. I am going to take over your company from the bottom up and rule the wrestling world. I will use the program to subtly indoctrinate the masses so the whole country will worship me for the god that I am. If anyone one of the athletes in BACW thinks they can stop me then they can suffer the same fate as the lowly production assistant by going to the same spot that we pummeled him at midnight any day of the week. Until then, my loyal followers will just have to convert or dispose of any other non-believer that wanders by.

(The video goes to black.)

PA: So do you guys think you can help me?

Universe Man: Yea yea yeah! It’s on like a pot of neck bone.

Particle Man: Sho ya right Universe Man and dat’s the tru-fus, Rufus!

PA: What?

Particle Man: We will put this genital genocide of BACW to a stop citizen PA.

PA: Killer!…

…

(Later that night in spot that the PA directed our heroes too the masked avengers wait bathed in the light of street lamps eagerly awaiting battle. A camera man hides in a nearby alley to catch any potential action… suddenly the two BACW stars are surrounded by eight minions mentioned by the PA. As the PA had told them they are armed with dildos.)

Minions in unison: Bow down and worship our master or we shall leave you dead in the streets! Either way you will be coming back to his temple.

(Universe Man drops to one knee and begins to tremble.)

Minion: A wise decision Universe Man.

Particle Man: He’s not worshipping your master. He’s laughing at your demands you dolt!

(Universe Man drops to the ground and starts laughing hysterically. The minions take advantage of him being down and start pelting him with the plastic pricks. Universe Man stops laughing. The camera man cuts to a near by dumpster when you predicts what is going to happen. Two by two all eight men go flying through the air and into the dumpster. Another figure emerges from the shadows. It is a Chinese man with giant double donga. He twirls it around like he is quite proficient in using it during combat.)

Chinese Man: You have disgraced my ancient fertility religion and now you must die. Hiyaaaa!

(Particle Man and the man with the double donga spring into action. The Chinese Man swings at the gut of Particle Man and our hero hits asphalt. Universe Man goes to console his boss.)

Particle Man: It is okay Universe Man. Connie Dong is going down. All the way down to China town, baby.

(Particle Man kips up. He charges the minion and slides in between the Chinese man’s legs. He grabs both ends of the double donga and ties it around the phallus worshipper’s neck. Still holding onto the penile bow staff tied around the minion’s neck Particle Man delivers a devastating double knee back breaker. Particle Man somersaults backwards to his feet and Universe Man holds the minion down.)

Particle Man: Now are you going to tell us where your master is or am I going to have to let my friend here turn your face into Chop Suey?

…

…

(The BACW cameraman sneaks into the location given by the minion wearing one of the robes he stole from the men in the dumpster. He has a small handheld camera he uses to capture the action. The temple is lush and decorated in a vaguely Eastern style. There are three steps leading up to a throne. The throne is turned around on a swivel so the man sitting in it can not be seen. On both sides of the throne two monolithic stone phalluses are erected. Two dozen robed minions bow to the throne in a pit below the stairs… Then a large crash as the dynamic duo of BACW bursts through the door. A voice calls out from the throne in an unknown language.)

Particle Man: Now Universe Man! Now!

(The camera man quickly tosses off his robe. Universe Man pulls three pellets out of his trunks and throws them to the ground. The pellets explode and smoke fills the room. The sounds of combat can be heard through the fog after the two heroes rush in. Minutes later the smoke clears and Universe Man throws the final body on the pile that Particle Man stands atop of. Particle Man poses and calls out the man on the throne.)

Particle Man: Give up now or go down like all of your minions.

(The throne turns around. A man in what can only be described as a giant dick costume stands up.)

Villain: You had no problems with my followers, but I do not fall so easily. You were supposed to do battle with a team known as The Sex Symbols, but you won’t make it that far for tonight you face the only Sex Symbol that matters. You face the man god! You face… The Dickhead!

Universe Man: Oh, so that why his head look like Darth Vader helmet in shadows.

(The Dickhead waddles up to Universe Man and sissy slaps him on the arm. Universe Man pushes The Dickhead to the ground. The Dickhead rolls around on the ground like a turtle. Universe Man also falls to the ground because he is laughing so hard.)

The Dickhead: When I get out of this suit you’re next Particle Man.

Particle Man: A rather unconventional way of disposing of my sidekick, but it worked. Your mere absurdity took my friend out of commission.

(The Dickhead rolls out of the giant dick costume. He is still wearing a dick helmet, but on his body he a flesh colored spandex body suit. He runs to one of the statues behind his throne and tosses Particle Man a sword. The Dickhead then goes the statue on his right and gets out what appears to be a two foot long vibrator. The Dickhead presses a button on the vibrator and metal spikes pop out. He then turns a knob at the bottom of it and it the weapon begins to vibrate making a whirring sound not unlike a light saber.)

The Dickhead: On guard!

Particle Man: Touche’, douche!

(The villain runs straight towards our hero. Particle tosses his sword aside. The Dickhead swings his giant spiked sex toy at Particle Man, but the masked man just steps aside and executes a drop toe hold. The Dickhead falls atop his own vile creation and begins to shake violently as the spikes penetrate his chest. Particle Man comes to the rescue of The Dickhead before he is fatally wounded. Particle Man helps the villain to his feet. Universe Man gets up as well and pulls some handcuffs out of his trunks. With the villain cuffed the heroes head out the door. The cameraman walks with them.)

Particle Man: We’ll just leave this villain in a phone booth for the authorities to pick up. He was a formidable opponent, if not in combat but in his ability to attract followers to do his bidding. We have defeated this walking sex symbol fairly easily. I have a feeling disposing of JD Hart--

Universe Man: More like JD Fart…

Particle Man: Alright… you’ve had your fill of sophomoric humor today, chum. That’s quite enough.

Universe Man: Sorry.

Particle Man: Apology accepted… as I was saying JD and Sean Peters are certainly better at combat than this villain and his cult, but I think they should be able to dispose of just as easily. It might take a little more time, but the challenge level will be the same.

Universe Man: Of course it take more time. Me think beating up two giant dick would take twice the time as defeating one.

Particle Man: I like the logic you’re using. Well said Universe Man. Well said!

(Star wipe to black.)

Random Thoughts I've had over the years.

I'm thinking most religions teach that murder has to be more pleasurable than sex. If you pleasure yourself some say you might go to hell for it someday. If you commit suicide you go lots of people say you go straight to hell.

I'm a professional wrestling fan so in the early hours of the morning before leaving work when I'm just there to sit alone and ponder I think of other things that may be pretend or "a work" just to take money away from people. I wonder when the Pope is going to break kayfabe.

Oh what a tangled web we weave! By we I mean the spider and I. Well, I guess I didn't do any of the weaving, but I supervised so I'm just as responsible. Like I said though, it's a tangled web, so it won't do. We've tried to untangle it, but it just ain't gonna happen folks. So I'm going to cut it with scissors. The spider won't have a home then, and knowing him he won't want to weave a new web. Perhaps he can just get a studio apartment. Those are pretty cheap.

Is there such a thing as something that is obviously ambiguous? If so I would think that everything that was ambiguous would be an obvious manner my next question would be if there was anything that would be ambiguously ambiguous?

There's this song by a group called Divinyls. Are maybe Dinvinyls is a person. I don't know. Anyway, there/her most famous song was "I Touch Myself". I always thought it'd be cool if some angsty group or singer covered the song but replaced the word touch with cut.

I would never tell anybody they were ugly. I don't think I would any way. Maybe if they were so ugly that it pissed me off. That, or if someone was really smug about their ugliness.

I saw this picture of sheep brains once. They were all brown. I wonder if my brains are brown like that. I'm guessing probably not. They're probably gray like my heart. If you eat too many organ meats they say that you can get gout. I wish unicorns existed. You could hunt them. Can you imagine the profit from the horn? Can you imagine the joy on a child's face when he gets to ride one? Better yet, can you imagine the melancholly look on the parents' faces when they realize that they just paid $50 so little Jonny could ride a unicorn. I would like to eat a unicorn. I wouldn't eat a horse, but a unicorn is special.

Do you know where chicken McNuggets come from? I'll tell you. The Grimace (who is shaped like a giant McNugget) and Birdie (a chicken) had sex. She laid her eggs, but when they hatched the children were already dead because the genes didn't mix. They were little, dead, grimace shaped chickens. They were born dead and ready to fry.

I woke up after a nap. Immediately after waking up a question came to me. "Where do scones go to heaven?" Scones, as in the fancy cookies some people enjoy with coffee. Heaven, in my mind, would be the place where God and the angels live. Also, as in the place where people who are arbitrarily deemed good go when they die in Judeo-Christian and the Muslim faiths. I immediately dismissed the question as nonsense and told myself that scones don't go to heaven. The question continued to bother me though. It was not the question itself, but the earnest manner in which I had asked the question that unsettled me. Seconds after asking the question I realized how silly it was, but the moment I had asked it I was completely serious. After I had answered the question it still kept echoing in my mind with the same genuineness it had when I first woke up. It was like part of my mind would not let go of the question. There was part of me that would not allow the question to be dismissed as foolishness. I thought this must be how crazy people feel all the time. I got up, drank a little water, and decided to write this. Part of me is still a little bothered as I finish this. The lesson is not to drink 4 cups of coffee and then force yourself to go to sleep. It is, or was, July 1, 2006. It is, or was, 3:02 in the afternoon and I am, or was, done writing.

I'm getting some money in a class action law suit. About six months ago I was at this monster truck show. They charged us for the whole seat when they knew damn well we would only be using the edge. The edge is about 1/4 of a seat legally. The tickets were $20 so a bunch of people are getting at least $15 back. Who knows what kind of money we'll get for emotional damages. I mean, I just can't trust another Monster Truck show again. Usually they scream something about charging you for the whole seat when you'll only be using the edge, but this time they forgot to put that in any of the advertisements for the show. Some guy thought he was a smart ass for calling them on their shit, but apparently we have a case.

You know how couples are registered at Target for weddings? I was thinking about picking a couple I didn't know, buy some sfuff from their list, and then keeping the appliances for myself so they wouldn't get it. It would be something to think about if I ever bought a house.