Friday, May 18

Lost Friday - "Greatest Hits."

Lost Friday - Episode 21.
Season 3 - Episode 21: "Greatest Hits."

The second-to-last Lost Friday of the year is upon us. We have much to discuss; which is amazing, considering that this was a Charlie episode (rimshot).

I kid Charlie; I sort of miss the little Hobbit already. Oh wait, he didn't die? Damn.

I want to start off by reminding everyone that the CDP will devote ALL NEXT WEEK to Lost Friday in honor of the Season 3 Finale. We'll be recapping all of the Season 3 goodness all next week, so please stop in every day in preparation for the big send-off. We'll have the best photo captions of Season 3, an all-haiku Season 3 recap, and various other points of little to no interest to yourself. Stop in anyways, though. Maybe buy a t-shirt or something.

I'd be lying if I told you that this was an action-packed, soggy-panted episode, blasting us completely into the finale and continuing on a string of amazing episodes that started over a month ago. Nope, this wasn't even the best Charlie episode so far, let alone anything close to what we've grown accustomed to this May. That all being said, it was a reasonably good buffer leading into the Season 3 Finale, and a good way to set the stage for the bloodbath that's about to ensue.

Look! It says what you says!
(Sun follows along with the subtitles.)

Speaking of bloodbaths, the rumor mill states that no less than 4 featured characters (castaways, Hostiles or otherwise) are going to die during next week's 2-hour finale. Don't look at that as a spoiler, just look at it as something to look forward to. Also appreciate that I used the word 'look' three times in one sentence, and it still came out grammatically correct.

This week, we got a rundown of how the castaways plan to 'asplode the Hostiles, we finally got a look at the underwater DHARMA station, we're going to see a trek to the Radio Tower (something they should have done 89 days ago), and we saw a side of Charlie Pace that was even more emo and annoying than when he was still on the junk.

Meanwhile, John Locke slowly decomposes on a pile of rotten skeletons. Man, that's going to be one boring-ass flashback episode.

Strap in and prepare yourself for The Thick & Meaty!

The Thick And Meaty.


Charlie, in preparation for his suicide mission, writes down the 5 happiest moments of his life. They recall the first time he heard Suck Shaft on the radio, the time he shut his domineering father up for good and drowned him, the time his junkie brother gave him a ring made entirely out of heroin, the time he saved a prostitute (Nadia) from paying her pimp his rightful 30% of the profits, and the time he met Claire and was subsequently blue-balled for 91 straight days by her.

Greatest Hits!!
(Sayid gives Karl CPR directly to his spinal cord.)


Jack treks the castaways into the middle of the jungle, so they can watch Rousseau blow up a tree (was it really necessary to explain how dynamite works?). According to Jack, when the Hostiles come to raid the camp, the castaways are going to dress the dynamite up like pregnant women to confuse them. When the hostiles hook the dynamite up to the ultrasound machine, ka-boom! After that, they're going to draw a huge EJECT button on the beach and blast themselves back onto the mainland.

Jack says, "We're gunna blow 'em all to hell." Then he takes a big bite out of a Pizza Hut 'Meat Lovers' pizza and mugs for the camera. I'm starting to think that the product placement is getting a little bit out of hand.

Naomi tells Charlie that a Drive Shaft 'Greatest Hits' album was released on the mainland to commemorate his death. It consists of 13 different versions of You All Everybody, including a mix by Timbaland and the Postal Service. It debuted at #198 on the Billboard Top 200, and gracefully bowed out a week later.

All this talk about remembering someone's death brings us to the Question Of The Week!

Question Of The Week.

How Will The CDP Be Remembered After Death?

A) $5 Best Buy gift card.

B) Flowery HTML banner.

C) Lifetime TiVo subscription for next-of-kin.

D) Family discovers the porn wing I've added onto the basement (thanks, Bill).

E) Christopher Cross performs 'Sailing' at funeral. I come back to life as zombie and kill Christopher Cross.

Of course, the correct answer is, "Huge rummage sale." Let's move along.

Sayid, after contemplating it since the goddamn Pilot Episode, thinks they should finally get around to the radio tower and disable the blocking frequency. Juliet says that the Looking Glass station is the source of the trouble, and doesn't know where it is....nope....not a clue.

She then mumbles something and starts walking in the completely opposite direction as Sayid. The walk turns into a saunter, then a jog and eventually a full-on sprint until she is no longer able to be seen. In the distance, a dog barks.

The white ones are the most tender.
(This show is rated TV-14 for graphic bunny violence.)

Desmond, who loves nothing more than to poop all over Charlie's party, tells him about his latest future flash. In order for Claire and Aaron to be saved, Charlie needs to sacrifice himself in the Looking Glass. In a TV show chock-full of McGuffins and Red Herrings, it's pretty safe to say that Desmond has absolutely no idea what he's talking about, and this storyline will vanish come Season 4.

Elsewhere, Jin grills Sun about Juliet's tape recording. Sun explains to Jin that the baby is healthy and she was able to see it on ultrasound. She then tells him that he's a sterile fisherman's son and she cheated on him with a cue-ball back at home. Jin roundhouse kicks Sun so hard that the show starts over from the beginning.

Hey, look! It's Karl! And he's got something important to say! What's that you say, Karl? The Others are coming? Tonight, instead of tomorrow? Gosh, we'd really like to believe you, Karl; if only there were some way that you could give us a flashback to your camp, say, 6 hours ago, that would be really great! You can? You will? Thanks, Karl! That's a good boy!

In flashbacks, Ben wants to attack the castaways now! Richard applies his guyliner with great vigor.

(Ice. Queen.)

Jack takes the majority of the castaways to the radio tower. Bernard, Jin and Sayid hang around the camp with the artillery. Desmond and Charlie head out in search of the Looking Glass. Locke grumbles and attempts to hold his small intestine in. Eko, Boone, Shannon, Ana Lucia, the Marshall and Libby continue to draw flies.

On the boat, Desmond and Charlie reach the Looking Glass, where they exchange some parting words and a brief, but passionate, kiss. Desmond offers to trade places with Charlie, who responds by nearly killing him with the oar. Isn't it nice how on television, everyone gets knocked out exactly when they're supposed to, for exactly as long as they're supposed to? What if that oar shot would have killed Desmond? What if he whiffed and missed Desmond by a mile? How would you save face after that?

"Juss swingin' at a wee gnat, mate."


Charlie descends into the Looking Glass and pops up to discover that it has not been flooded. Two women with guns bear down on him, the Hobbit pees the pool, and we smash-cut to black.

Not bad. Not bad at all. The stage has been set, the plan is in motion, and it'll only be less than a week until we get to see how they'll screw it up yet again. I mean, shooting tents full of explosives? It seems almost foolproof!

The more that I think about it, the more I think they adopted this plan because it just seemed the most awesome. I mean, what's more awesome than firing a shot into a tent full of dynamite, subsequently vaporizing a bunch of bad guys in the process? Is there anything more awesome?

5 Awesome Things.

5 Awesome Things...Better Than Detonating A Tent Full Of Dynamite.

1) Not being tried as an adult.

2) John McCrea, the lead singer for Cake.

3) That one dream I had with Selma Hayek and the World's Largest Hoagie.

4) Winning the Money In The Bank ladder match at Wrestlemania.

5) Detonating two tents full of dynamite.

Step back and shield your eyes, it's time to Break It Down!

Break It Down!

4- Can you believe that Charlie's going to die before getting to sleep with Claire? I mean, can you honestly believe it? I dislike Charlie and all, but he put a lot of cultivation into that one-sided relationship, and I feel pretty bad for the guy right about now. He went from two girls a night in Finland, to three months of fetching water and changing cloth diapers for ABSOLUTELY NO REASON*. This is all the more reason why Claire is completely worthless on the island and should die next week. Not because she won't sleep with Charlie, mind you; just that she doesn't do anything for anybody.

And don't start that crap about Aaron; that baby is made of a crude plastic, and you all know it.

(*Okay, so maybe he loves her. Even still.)

8- Bernard and Rose made their first appearance together all season. To me, that says one (or both) of them ain't making it to Season 4. It was also nice to see Vincent for a tenth of a second, as well. I'm still hoping for a Vincent flashback episode, documenting his last 90 days on the island. I'd expect to see him peeing on lots of trees and licking himself, but that would ruin the plot of the next Locke episode.

Such funny jokes. I ran out of material in 2004.

For the two of you who don't know what an explosion looks like.
(This is what happens when you let George W. Bush make toast.)

15- If Naomi is telling the truth, and everyone in the world thinks that Flight 815 was recovered with no survivors, isn't it safe to assume that Michael and Walt never made it back home? Could they actually still be out in the ocean? I mean, if they did somehow make it back to the mainland, they surely would have told someone, right? Right?


16- It's good to see Jack making decisions, regardless of if the majority of the castaways agree with them or not. This actually hits home for me, as I find myself in a similar situation almost every day of my life. Whenever I'm with my Wife and a group of friends, and the time comes for us to get out of the house and actually do something, I always get every eyeball in the house focused on me.

Apparently, nobody I know is capable of making a decision, and I'm always left to plan the itinerary for the evening. It's gotten to the point where they're actually calling me 'Alpha Male.' Not because I am, mind you (I'm 5'9" and 156lbs.), but simply because they're too lazy and indecisive to determine where they want to order their freaking pizza, and I absolutely cannot stand wasting time on meaningless crap like that. I'd rather focus on recapping TV shows and playing Super Paper Mario until 3am.

As you would assume, every decision I make is incorrect and frowned upon, even though they left the entire decision making process up to me. I can never win with these people, honestly. I'm through deciding things; from now on, decisions are going to make themselves.

Up to a D-cup, I see.
("We have to un-jam that radio tower, dude. I have to vote for Jordin!")

23- I can't believe Melinda got kicked off of American Idol. If Blake (wiggida-wiggida-wickie-wackie-boom-boom-tsss) Lewis beats Jordin (I'm Chris Hansen from Dateline NBC, and I'd like to have a word with you) Sparks, I just might have to jump through my television and beat-box his skull to malt powder.

42- You know what Season 4 needs? Two words: Zombie Eko.

Yeah, this is what happens when you get an uneventful episode. Sorry, kids.

Spoiler nerds, duck and cover! Here comes The Preview!

Through The Looking Glass.
(Sorry my desk wasn't clean when this photo was taken; this place is a MESS!)

Season 3 - Episode 22/23: "Through The Looking Glass."

I need to be completely honest with you here, so please listen up. While compiling information for this week's Lost Friday, I kind-of-sort-of accidentally spoiled myself concerning the finale. For those of you who wish to be completely spoiled, the information is out there and accurate. I won't go over it here, but I wanted to be up-front about it, because I normally write The Preview from a purely speculative basis. Because I pretty much know what's going to happen, I can't really do that this week.

Here's what I'm willing tell you, and don't worry, I'm not going to seriously spoil you. If you really, really, really want to know (you don't), send me an e-mail or something. And away we go.

Not crazy.
("Liam, be honest. You got bit by that zombie, didn't you?")

4- It's going to be awesome. The Castaways and the Others are going to have a war, and people are going to die. You'll be satisfied in that regard, I promise.

8- We'll see what's going on with Locke, and we'll see someone show up with him that you won't be expecting.

15- At the end of Season 1, we got a twist that changed the dynamic of the entire show. At the end of Season 2, we got more of the same. This season, we're probably going to get the biggest twist in the history of the show. It's something we've never seen before, it will start billions of discussion threads, and offer insight as to how the remaining 3 seasons will play out. Believe me, you're going to geek the hell out at the end of this one; it's seriously going to change the game. Just reading it made me go, "Ruh-roh...this is going to mess some people up."

16- Hurley's going to do something awesome. One of the most awesomest things he's ever done.

I'm a dead man!
(Charlie looks so pathetic in this photo that I can't even make fun of him.)

23- Every time the last few episodes of the season roll around, I start to think to myself, "I wonder how the castaways are going to screw it up this time." At the end of this episode, I seriously doubt you're going to feel that way. In fact, it seems that the Castaways are getting smarter and smarter with each passing episode.

42- Even though I went and ruined something that I had been looking forward to for months, there's no way I'll enjoy this episode any less. It's going to be that interesting. Jack is going to have his best episode ever.

Well, there you have it. Another Lost Friday in the books. Remember that Lost Friday will expand to ALL NEXT WEEK in honor of the Season 3 Finale, so be sure to stop by the CDP every day next week for more details about the end of Season 3. As always, start the conversation in the comments section and send all erotic photography to Once you're done giving me advice on avoiding the paparazzi, head on over to The Coconut Internet and say hello.

Here are links to every Lost Friday this season. Thanks for reading; we'll see you on Lost Monday.



Season 3 Preview
Season 3 - Episode 1 Review
Season 3 - Episode 2 Review
Season 3 - Episode 3 Review
Season 3 - Episode 4 Review
Season 3 - Episode 5 Review
Season 3 - Episode 6 Review
Season 3 - Episode 7 Review
Season 3 - Episode 8 Review
Season 3 - Episode 9 Review
Season 3 - Episode 10 Review
Season 3 - Episode 11 Review
Season 3 - Episode 12 Review
Season 3 - Episode 13 Review
Season 3 - Episode 14 Review
Season 3 - Episode 15 Review
Season 3 - Episode 16 Review
Season 3 - Episode 17 Review
Season 3 - Episode 18 Review
Season 3 - Episode 19 Review
Season 3 - Episode 20 Review


Wednesday, May 16

Praying For The End Of Time.

Praying For The End Of Time.

CDP- "Honestly hun, I don't think this place actually exists."
MISSUS- "Please... don't be an idiot tonight."

Waukau, Wisconsin. According to my sister, she's driven through there on multiple occasions, seeing not a single person in the process. Her theory was that it was a long-abandoned Ghost Town; mine was that the place was just a fake front for an all-human, for-profit slaughterhouse. Although I spent my entire Saturday night within the confines of Waukau, I was unable to confirm or deny either speculation.

A friend of ours was graduating from college, so her family threw her a party at a Youth Center-style pavilion in Waukau, which was about 10 minutes outside of the Missus' hometown of Winneconne (and where I went to school for 12 years). The fact that I had never known of the existence of this place troubled and confused me; you'd think there would have been at least one night where I ended up there, perhaps a flat tire or through a friend-of-a-friend, but nope. After about a half-hour of hairpin, 5-mile-an-hour turns through thick brush and darkness, we arrived.

I put on my game face.

Me and the Missus showed up with Ben and Sherry, and I instantly got a serious headache just seconds after stepping under the fluorescent lights that had been set to 'Perma-Noon.' The Missus and Sherry started with mingling with all of their close acquaintances and the Guest of Honor, and I started wrangling up as much alcohol as I could find for myself and Ben. We eventually settled on a concoction of whiskey, Diet Sierra Mist and lime vodka that had the both of us reeling after about 20 minutes.

Add that to generous portions of cheese and potato salad we instantly consumed, and we were pretty much set for the evening. True to form, I was becoming more and more unapproachable as the night kicked into motion.

I don't know whether my ability to function properly in social settings is getting exponentially worse, or I'm just more in tune with the fact that I'm no longer good at it. Either way, it's gotten to the point where I honestly don't see any reason why people would want to sit next to me and mingle. Sure, I'm sexy enough and smell like freshly mown grass, but most of the time I just act surly and eventually offend someone until one of us walks away, never to return. I chalk it up to social anxiety, crippling nervousness coupled with alcohol, and a heaping helping of apathy to boot.

I'm on when I want to be on, kids. 'Life of the Party' CDP and 'Depressed Asshole' CDP have always been my standby party personas, but I've noticed that the more positive of the two is making fewer and fewer appearances. I could speculate as to why, but I think it's just resounding selfishness and laziness on the part of yours truly. I'm not proud of it; I'm just acknowledging that it's there.

Back at the party, a friend of the family was manning the karaoke machine, and he sounded almost exactly like Boomhauer from King Of The Hill when he spoke. On the positive side, his voice wasn't all that bad, and I didn't cringe or get uncomfortable whenever he sang a tune. He did, however, have a bag of props that he liberally dipped into from time to time (afro wig, oversized cowboy hat, etc.), and that was no good, Johnny Cash tune or otherwise.

"You know what this party needs?" I slurred over to Ben, who was just as tipsy on the other side of the table.


"A Wii!" I exclaimed, in reference to the latest unnecessary gadget adorning my living room. The two of us had spent the last day and a half mastering the mechanics of the latest Nintendo innovation, and I could hear it calling my name amongst the reverberations of 'Walking After Midnight' and 'Ocean Front Property.'

"Stop drinking. You have to drive us home." The Missus snapped from one chair over. She was right, so my night ended a little early; instead opting for ice water and chewing on stirring straws.

I dizzily made my way to the pavilion bathroom and spent a minute or so looking into the mirror. After accepting how God-awful I look under buzzing fluorescent lights and attempting to ignore my horrid headache, I started asking myself questions that shouldn't be contemplated in public restrooms. You know, the same ridiculous and inane questions I ask myself about every 4 months or so.

"What am I doing here?"

(Well, you're here with your wife and friends because one of them graduated from College, and that's a good thing. We're here to celebrate someone's achievements. You do know what achievements are, right?)

"Okay. Then why am I so unhappy?"

(Because you're uncomfortable and out-of-place. You probably know 6 other people there, and everyone else is wearing plaid shirts and NASCAR hats. You're worried that you don't fit in, which is why you've been making fun of everyone tonight, and deserve to be thrown out. Stop drinking, get your head on straight and don't make your wife's friends think that married a butthole.)

"I see.... So, what's my problem, anyway?"

(You're selfish. You don't know that you are, but trust me, you are. Every waking moment of your life should not be spent trying to make yourself happy, you know. Every now and again, you need to step back and just be for awhile. I don't care if there's something else you'd rather be doing; stop being a shallow jerk. Shake this lingering bad attitude and start telling jokes, monkey. Funny ones.)

Silly me.

I thought my social anxiety reached a fever pitch plateau a few weeks ago, when I had a near-meltdown at a bowling alley that almost resulted in my ass being kicked. A group of us hit the local lanes, when I was instantly reminded why I try my damnest to avoid bars, concerts or anywhere else that hoards of idiots congregate. I was instantly drowning in smoke, unbearable country music, hootin', hollerin' and various other activities that vapid losers partake in a feeble attempt to have 'fun.'

Never mind the fact the everyone should be allowed to enjoy themselves in any way they seem fit and I was just being an elitist jerk; I was being rubbed the wrong way, and my faith in humanity continued to drop through the floor.

You can only mock rednecks for so long until they start looking at you and wisen up. Of course, getting one of them to wisen up can take anywhere from several hours to days even, but it will happen eventually. They'll wipe the tobacco juice from their collective chins, take their 15 year old girlfriends off of their laps, adjust their Confederate flag belt buckles and start swinging. Luckily for me, it didn't get to that point, because my wife was smart enough to tell me to shut the hell up and pick up that 2-3-5 Spare. I swear to you, I bought Wii Sports just so I never have to go to an actual bowling alley again.

Long after everyone else forgot about it, that night at the alley stuck with me. Why was I so angered by the conflicting enjoyment of others? Why was it so easy for me to collapse based entirely on the conflicting behavior of others? Why did I hate people so much? Surely, this behavior can't be a normal reaction, could it?

I took my mom and sister out for ice cream on Mother's Day. After ordering our stuff, I refused to sit and eat in the store, as I felt there were far too many 'loud, obnoxious idiots' around (you should have seen the place; I was sort of right). Adhering to my wishes, we all ate our ice cream in my Mom's minivan. Does that sound like something you've ever done? I doubt it, yet the people around me are starting to treat this as acceptable behavior from myself. "Oh, that's just the CDP being the CDP. He's like that; it's fine."

It's not. Even I know that it's not. Let's continue.

As the graduation party moved along, my spirits were picked up by a stunning karaoke performance of 'Paradise By The Dashboard Light,' sung by Ben and Erin. Ben put on a performance for the ages, resulting in what was honestly one of the funniest things I've ever seen anyone do. Ben's a funny guy, but when he gets a microphone in front of him, he becomes a different man. I've seen it happen for 10 years now, going back to when he was the lead singer in our old punk band. They should have just shut off the lights and struck the set after that performance; there was simply nothing that was going to top it. I wanted to go home immediately afterwards; what was the point of not leaving on a high note?

For the remainder of the evening, many people were pressuring me into singing karaoke myself. Considering my physical condition at the time, coupled with my emotional state and the fact that there was going to be nothing cooler than Ben's performance short of dropping my pants and teabagging someone's Whiskey Sour, I refused until people kind of got snippy with me. Eventually, I stood on stage briefly for a rendition of 'Love Shack,' where I played the role of that one gay guy that's in the B-52's.

Then, mercifully, it was time to go home.

On the car ride back, I asked my wife if the guest of honor had a good time. She sort of snapped at me, saying something like, "How should I know? You were there too, you know." She was confused as to why I was asking her such a non-selfish question, which is exactly how she should have responded to me. I don't ask these questions because I don't care, but I was starting to realize that maybe I should. This revelation was met with anger and confusion from the Missus, who has long since grown accustomed to my selfish and egotistical ways.

I deserved it.

For the first time in a very long time, I'm really starting to be concerned about my attitude and personal outlook. I've always stated that you should be able to live whatever life you choose to live, provided it's not making anyone else's life miserable. Pretend as they may, I'm starting to think that I'm negatively affecting those around me with my Bipolar quirks and OCD-tendencies. It's nice of them to ignore the worst of me and focus on the good stuff, but if the roles were reversed, I would have thrown myself out of the Circle of Friends years ago. Something's gotta give.

So, what should I do about it? I hear there's all sorts of wonderful medication out there that destroys your creativity, strips you of any sort of emotional high and completely snuffs out your sex drive. What? You're saying that I can stop being a jerk around people, and all I have to do is give up writing and sex? Where do I sign? I should have done this years ago!

Yeah, that's not going to happen. If you know me well, you'll know that I like to combat stress and depression with harder and harder work. To me, stagnation and standing still make you as good as dead, and maybe it's this current complacency that's put my mind in this emo funk. What I need is a big project to work on, and come this Summer, I'll probably get my wish. Hell, I was supposed to finish my book a year ago; when's that coming out?

This, like all things, will soon pass. I'll get my head back on straight, my close friends will feel more comfortable around me, and vice-versa. I just need to make sure it happens before I lose everything.

Sound off in the comments section, and hook a brother up with some positivity.


Tuesday, May 15

It's Been Awhile Since I Got A Bunch Of Hate Mail.

(Jerry Falwell - 1933-2007)

"I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way- all of them who have tried to secularize America- I point the finger in their face and say "you helped this happen." - Following the September 11 Attacks.

"AIDS is the wrath of a just God against homosexuals. To oppose it would be like an Israelite jumping in the Red Sea to save one of Pharaoh's charioteers . . . AIDS is not just God's punishment for homosexuals; it is God's punishment for the society that tolerates homosexuals." - On AIDS.

"You'll be riding along in an automobile. You'll be the driver perhaps. You're a Christian. There'll be several people in the automobile with you, maybe someone who is not a Christian. When the trumpet sounds you and the other born-again believers in that automobile will be instantly caught away - you will disappear, leaving behind only your clothes and physical things that cannot inherit eternal life. That unsaved person or persons in the automobile will suddenly be startled to find the car suddenly somewhere crashes.... Other cars on the highway driven by believers will suddenly be out of control and stark pandemonium will occur on ... every highway in the world where Christians are caught away from the drivers wheel." - On Born-Again Christians.

"Labor unions should study and read the Bible instead of asking for more money. When people get right with God, they are better workers." - On Labor Unions.

"I do not believe the homosexual community deserves minority status. One's misbehavior does not qualify him or her for minority status. Blacks, Hispanics, women, etc., are God-ordained minorities who do indeed deserve minority status." - On Minorities.

"I hope I live to see the day when, as in the early days of our country, we won't have any public schools. The churches will have taken them over again and Christians will be running them. What a happy day that will be!" - On Public Schools.

"I question the sincerity of people like the Reverend Martin Luther King." - On Civil Rights.

The world has lost a true douchebag. Sound off in the comments section and pay your respects.

Monday, May 14

A Little Self-Plagiarism Never Hurt Nobody.

CDP World Headquarters.

The staff here at CDP World Headquarters (pictured above) wanted to spotlight 3 quick stories that had been published on the CDP in years past, but since buried or tucked away beneath hundreds of other posts. Through a sophisticated and thorough dig through the CDP Archives, these 3 tales (long since determined 'lost') have resurfaced and are now being given the proper treatment they previously deserved. We wanted to republish them today for 3 main reasons:

A) We have nothing better to put up.
B) They were funny and overlooked.
C) We have nothing better to blah-bloo-blah-BLAH.


The Puzzle.
1. From "Wilhelm Screamroller," originally published December 9, 2004:

This is proof positive that not only is the Missus the perfect woman for me, but also that there's something seriously wrong with her.

We were watching Wheel of Fortune last night, and the final puzzle was on. Concentrating heavily on the show, the two of us hadn't really said anything to each other for about 5 minutes. The category was "Thing", and the puzzle looked like this:

_ _ R _ _ _ _

My brow furrowed, wondering what it could possibly be. The Missus, in all seriousness and concentration, looks over at me and confidently says...


I damn near spit out my chocolate milk. Before I had the chance to catch my breath and explain to her that she just made up a non-existent and potentially vulgar word, the contestant selected some letters, and the puzzle now looked something like this:

_ AR _ BO _

Looking a bit embarrassed, the Missus soon saw the error of her ways.

"Oh!" She said. "Fartbox."

I could go on for hours with all the reasons why this was funny to me; the timing, the sheer audacity, but I think you get the picture. She's a good woman, and I love her dearly.

By the way, the correct answer was CARIBOU.

The Trick.
2. From "Grammar Enema," originally published May 10, 2006:

Watching David Blaine's show on Monday reminded me of the greatest card trick I'd ever pulled off. I was in the 7th grade, and I threw a party for all of my friends at my Grandma's house. Being the eager-to-please host, I handed out sodas and generous slices of pizza, telling jokes and performing magic tricks to the content crowd.

I was quite the magician in my time, as you would probably assume. It's been a while since I've busted out the playing cards, but I think I could still throw down with the best of them.

Anyways, in what would be my last trick of the night (you have to go out on a high note), I told my friend to pick a card out of the deck and show his friends. It was the three of hearts, and everyone made certain that I did not see it when he thrust it back into the deck. I began to do my little routine where I cracked wise while I did my slight of hand, but something went wrong about halfway through. I lost track of the three of hearts, and I knew that I had to abort the trick.

A little frustrated and embarrassed, I announced that I had to start the trick over, and had my friend shuffle the deck about six times. I then told him to pull out a new card at random and once again show it to his friends.

When he pulled the card out, the room got really silent, jaws dropped and focused directly on me. "Woah, how did you do that?" he said.

"Do what?" I shot back, as he turned the card over to reveal the three of hearts.

The poor bastard actually pulled the same card twice.

"Thank you and goodnight!" I said, snatching the cards and making a beeline for the door.

This exit would have been far more dramatic had it not been my own house, as I had to quietly enter a little while later when nobody was looking.

The Burger.
3. From "Eight Teeth To Eat You," originally published November 2, 2006:

First impressions are very important, and I'm the undisputed King and Master of peeing them straight down my leg.

At work on Tuesday, a new employee was about to come over to my cubicle and introduce herself to me. She knew I was sort of a big deal, and probably wanted an autograph or something. It just so happened to be Halloween, so she was wearing a Prom Night-style costume; like a dead prom queen or something. She looked great, although I still haven't seen her in the office without the bloody makeup and tattered dress. Maybe I just made her up, and she doesn't really work here.

Anyways, she poked her head in just as I was taking a huge bite out of a BK Veggie Burger (along with a king-size fry and a chocolate shake; I'm trying to watch what I eat). As she kindly said hello (while cradling a bloody, plastic baby in her arms), I bit down and shot about a quart of mayo and barbecue sauce out of the ass-end of said burger, spooting it all over my important documents and literature.

As it were, she now thinks that the cleanest and most obsessive-compulsive man in the office is the filthiest and messiest. I'm sure of it.

You just watch. Over the next few weeks, I'll try to engage in conversation with her, making several attempts to prove to her just how organized and anti-mayo-spootage I actually am. However, karma being what it is, I'll just find more ways to solidify her first impression of me. Toner will splash liberally onto my pants. Newspaper ink will smear across my white shirt. Cream cheese and coffee will bombard me from all angles.

I'm the office slob to her, and no amount of organizing my Hi-Liters by color will undo that. This is precisely the sort of stuff that keeps me up at night, straightening my carpet fibers one at a time.

Thanks for enjoying recent nostalgia with me. Sound off in the comments section and enjoy 'yer Monday.