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chow down and bulk up. The only thing that a really small dog is
good for is this…you spray them with Pledge furniture polish and
slide them under the furniture to collect dust bunnies, OR you buy
them a tiny saddle and teach a mouse to ride.
    I used to think that Chinese torture methods
consisted of slowly dripping water onto a person's forehead,
eventually driving the restrained victim insane. But now, I know
the truth. The worst form of Chinese torture is untangling miles of
made-in-China Christmas lights, spending hours hanging them all up
and then finding that one has burned out, making the whole strand
useless. TORTURE!
    When did disposable razors become so
expensive? Granted, I use the one with eight blades that vibrates
and plays peaceful mood music as I shave, but it seems a shame that
my kids are going to have to go to community college on a
scholarship because Daddy doesn't want to grow a Unabomber
beard.
    Five things we’re going to do with our
“massive” tax refund:
    1. Kids! New shoe laces for everyone!
    2. No more discounted three-day-old sushi
for a while.
    3. Family trip to the mall for a hot dog on
a stick and unlimited escalator rides.
    4. Inching ever closer to having enough
money to make a down payment on a 1987 Yugo.
    5. Massive used underwear purchase at the
local Goodwill.
    Well, my ‘must-do’ list for today is shot to
hell:
    1. I did not use the word “dollop” in a
charming or urbane way.
    2. I did not have a chance to break the
record of the World’s Longest Piece of Toilet Paper Stuck to My
Shoe event.
    3. Finally, I never got
around to translating that last chapter of War and Peace into one, simple haiku
poem. Bummer!
    So, what's weird is that a lot of places
that take your credit card now just swipe it and hand you a
receipt. Quick and easy. But when you use your debit card, you have
to navigate through the banking equivalent of the Spanish
Inquisition. Is this the correct amount? Do you want it all on one
card? Would you like cash back? Would you like to donate $1 to the
Save the Snail Darter Foundation? If you could be any kind of a
tree...
    I know that I should stick up for the home
team (that would be men), but I’m sorry – we are pigs. Thousands of
public restrooms attest to this. What is so challenging about
directing a stream of urine into a urinal the size of a pygmy
elephant from eight inches away without doing the Harlem Shuffle at
the same time and swabbing the deck for the next unlucky pee-er?
The guy at the state fair, who can flawlessly squirt water into a
clown’s mouth with laser-like focus, popping his balloon in mere
seconds to win a stuffed animal that makes him the envy of every
6-year-old he just beat, is the same guy that pees into a urinal
like he’s trying to spell his name in the snow. What is the
problem, guys? Your penis is not a swizzle stick, and unless it
dog-legs like the sixth hole at Augusta, this should be a fairly
straightforward operation. I’m sorry, but there is nothing worse
than having to mention over the partition to the pee partner on
your left that you and he don’t have the kind of special
relationship that makes it OK for him to splatter your shoes. I
don’t know what the answer is. Some places have actually put little
‘bulls-eye’ decals strategically on the inside of urinal. That
seems to help. Maybe it’s the innate competitive nature of guys
that makes many of them channel their inner Robin Hood and attack
those bulls-eyes like they are shooting an apple off some restroom
attendant’s head. Maybe if we could use our strategically placed
urine to play Halo or Call of Duty (there’s a bad pun there) or
Madden, we would never misfire again and hit the floor, the wall or
some guy from Madison, Wisconsin. Oh, and don’t even get me started
on airplane toilets.
    Why are people (mostly men) so uptight about
the word “vagina?” From the time most guys are about fourteen, the
vagina is the holy grail of their existence. Men do