Is it "Nobody does it like Sara Lee" or "Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee"? I've asked many people and gotten answers on both sides of this issue, which will probably plague me until the end of my days. Or at least until I see it written down somewhere on a Sara Lee package, which I might see on my impending supermarket journey.

Is it "Nobody does it like Sara Lee" or "Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee"? I've asked many people and gotten answers on both sides of this issue, which will probably plague me until the end of my days. Or at least until I see it written down somewhere on a Sara Lee package, which I might see on my impending supermarket journey.

It's a self-perpetuating vicious cycle, and Nick Hornby was completely right. Do people listen to pop music because they're miserable, or are they miserable because they listen to pop music? Me, the music/mood link is definitely a tell-all with me. You can always tell how I'm feeling by what I'm listening to. But someone I know in college got me in the random habit of making a conscious effort to break whatever state of mind/energy I'm in at the moment by trying to listen to music of a mood/energy state I want to be in.

Basically, how this applies right now is the fact that I really need to get my ass out of my chair, go grocery shopping & get a haircut. The main problem to completing these wonderful activities is that I have absolutely no energy to do anything but sit here and vegetate, as much as I would like them to be done. As such, I know what must be done to motivate me to get up & leave... but I'm trying very hard not to be such a masochist.

I have "Who Let the Dogs Out" queued on my MP3 playlist. Whether I actually go as far as to let it play, that's another thing. Film at 11.

It's a self-perpetuating vicious cycle, and Nick Hornby was completely right. Do people listen to pop music because they're miserable, or are they miserable because they listen to pop music? Me, the music/mood link is definitely a tell-all with me. You can always tell how I'm feeling by what I'm listening to. But someone I know in college got me in the random habit of making a conscious effort to break whatever state of mind/energy I'm in at the moment by trying to listen to music of a mood/energy state I want to be in.

Basically, how this applies right now is the fact that I really need to get my ass out of my chair, go grocery shopping & get a haircut. The main problem to completing these wonderful activities is that I have absolutely no energy to do anything but sit here and vegetate, as much as I would like them to be done. As such, I know what must be done to motivate me to get up & leave... but I'm trying very hard not to be such a masochist.

I have "Who Let the Dogs Out" queued on my MP3 playlist. Whether I actually go as far as to let it play, that's another thing. Film at 11.

I still have no idea how people can be so absolutely shameless about their cell phone calls. Apparently, talking to friends on the phone gives people the illusion of maintaining a quasi-private conversation, even in the midst of a crowd.

I was waiting in line at the ATM to get cash this evening when a young woman came in to deposit her check. Since she had time to spare while she was waiting to reach the actual machine, she pulled out her cell phone and called one of her friends. The conversation degraded into a recounting of a tale regarding an event that had happened a couple nights ago. The woman in line was telling her friend about how she was trying to step over a bedframe and her toe got caught in the frame and it ripped her toenail out. And her earpiece was so loud, I could hear the "ewwwwwwww!" coming out from the other end.

Did I really need to hear about this woman's toenail? No. I'm sure at this point, almost every guy in line was looking down at her feet and thinking the same thing I was: "I really didn't need to hear that."

I still have no idea how people can be so absolutely shameless about their cell phone calls. Apparently, talking to friends on the phone gives people the illusion of maintaining a quasi-private conversation, even in the midst of a crowd.

I was waiting in line at the ATM to get cash this evening when a young woman came in to deposit her check. Since she had time to spare while she was waiting to reach the actual machine, she pulled out her cell phone and called one of her friends. The conversation degraded into a recounting of a tale regarding an event that had happened a couple nights ago. The woman in line was telling her friend about how she was trying to step over a bedframe and her toe got caught in the frame and it ripped her toenail out. And her earpiece was so loud, I could hear the "ewwwwwwww!" coming out from the other end.

Did I really need to hear about this woman's toenail? No. I'm sure at this point, almost every guy in line was looking down at her feet and thinking the same thing I was: "I really didn't need to hear that."

In what can only be considered a completely ridiculous move to generate retail commerce, a mall in Scotland is offering Shopping Boyfriends for rent. Women will be able to drop off their shopping-fearing significant others and "rent" a shopping-friendly guy for a few hours. According to one of the organizers, "The Shopping Boyfriend is the ultimate retail therapist: enthusiastic, attentive, admiring and complimentary. He will browse with the girlfriend for hours on end. He'll even say her bum looks small." That last part is key -- because all men know that the answer to any question of "does this make my ass look big?" is always "no, honey," lest we appreciate sleeping on the couch alone.

My mom compares shopping with my father to a hostage rescue mission -- make a plan ahead of time, know what your objectives are, go in, grab, get out. My father can't last more than 5 minutes in a clothing store without breaking out into cold sweats, so every time he needs clothes, it's a very quick trip to the mall. I still find it hilarious that whenever I go shopping with my mom, she remarks, "You know, your father would've passed out by now."

In what can only be considered a completely ridiculous move to generate retail commerce, a mall in Scotland is offering Shopping Boyfriends for rent. Women will be able to drop off their shopping-fearing significant others and "rent" a shopping-friendly guy for a few hours. According to one of the organizers, "The Shopping Boyfriend is the ultimate retail therapist: enthusiastic, attentive, admiring and complimentary. He will browse with the girlfriend for hours on end. He'll even say her bum looks small." That last part is key -- because all men know that the answer to any question of "does this make my ass look big?" is always "no, honey," lest we appreciate sleeping on the couch alone.

My mom compares shopping with my father to a hostage rescue mission -- make a plan ahead of time, know what your objectives are, go in, grab, get out. My father can't last more than 5 minutes in a clothing store without breaking out into cold sweats, so every time he needs clothes, it's a very quick trip to the mall. I still find it hilarious that whenever I go shopping with my mom, she remarks, "You know, your father would've passed out by now."

So according to the Associated Press, bin Laden has nuclear & chemical weapons but will only use them if the U.S. uses them on him. (Personally, I think the chances of our using nuclear weapons is next to nil, and we really do have a moron in the White House if he seriously considers using them.) However, our intelligence agencies claim they have "no evidence" that he's got the weapons he's claiming he has.

Pardon me if I'm not breathing any sighs of relief just yet. These are the same intelligence agencies who've botched so many terror alerts already, plus these are the same guys who still haven't been able to pinpoint bin Laden's position for capture/bombing for almost 2 months now. Yet they're being careful to cover their asses -- saying they don't have evidence of it means that they can say later, if anything happens, "Well, we didn't have any evidence of it. That doesn't mean no evidence existed, it just means we didn't have any," and then go running to Congress for more funding.

So according to the Associated Press, bin Laden has nuclear & chemical weapons but will only use them if the U.S. uses them on him. (Personally, I think the chances of our using nuclear weapons is next to nil, and we really do have a moron in the White House if he seriously considers using them.) However, our intelligence agencies claim they have "no evidence" that he's got the weapons he's claiming he has.

Pardon me if I'm not breathing any sighs of relief just yet. These are the same intelligence agencies who've botched so many terror alerts already, plus these are the same guys who still haven't been able to pinpoint bin Laden's position for capture/bombing for almost 2 months now. Yet they're being careful to cover their asses -- saying they don't have evidence of it means that they can say later, if anything happens, "Well, we didn't have any evidence of it. That doesn't mean no evidence existed, it just means we didn't have any," and then go running to Congress for more funding.

So here I am... sitting at my computer, drunk & alone. I had hoped that the party my neighbors were throwing would score me at least a little lovin', though it seems that the women who attended were mostly interested in the Arabic men who came & then left shortly thereafter, because they were either more exotic or better looking than I. Screw that.

I can't help it that I am who I am. But that doesn't mean that I can't be lonely. So what if I could stand to lose a few pounds. So what if I don't come from another country and don't have that exotic appeal. So what if I'm not the suavest thing to hit the Earth since sliced bread. I make no excuses for the person I have become, yet I would appreciate some affection as much as the next guy. Probably more, since I know there's tons of guys who are able to go out and use women to hook up with and then toss them aside like used tissues and do this every weekend.

I'm sick of all this. I want a job, I want my life back, I want things to be set right again. How long do I have to wait before I finally get mine? Haven't I gone through enough? Haven't I been patient enough? When does it become my turn? When do I finally get all that's coming to me? If karma really is a boomerang, why am I getting smacked upside the head so hard? Don't I deserve even just a little happiness, or am I still asking too much?

So here I am... sitting at my computer, drunk & alone. I had hoped that the party my neighbors were throwing would score me at least a little lovin', though it seems that the women who attended were mostly interested in the Arabic men who came & then left shortly thereafter, because they were either more exotic or better looking than I. Screw that.

I can't help it that I am who I am. But that doesn't mean that I can't be lonely. So what if I could stand to lose a few pounds. So what if I don't come from another country and don't have that exotic appeal. So what if I'm not the suavest thing to hit the Earth since sliced bread. I make no excuses for the person I have become, yet I would appreciate some affection as much as the next guy. Probably more, since I know there's tons of guys who are able to go out and use women to hook up with and then toss them aside like used tissues and do this every weekend.

I'm sick of all this. I want a job, I want my life back, I want things to be set right again. How long do I have to wait before I finally get mine? Haven't I gone through enough? Haven't I been patient enough? When does it become my turn? When do I finally get all that's coming to me? If karma really is a boomerang, why am I getting smacked upside the head so hard? Don't I deserve even just a little happiness, or am I still asking too much?

I still have no damned clue why these stupid-ass pro-lifers feel justified in threatening or killing people who perform abortions. Don't they realize that the same right that allows them to freely express their opinions allows the abortionists to freely ply their trade? And if they're so riled up about people "killing babies," then how in hell do they justify threatening or outrightly taking the lives of already-fully-developed people who have an impact on society and who others may be dependent on?

Yes, the Planned Parenthood clinic my mom works at received a powder package yesterday. Yes, my mom was there at the time. Yes, the FBI came to the clinic. Yes, I'm damned upset, although I realize that it's probably just a scare tactic using talcum powder. And yes, I'd be swearing a hell of a lot more here right now if I hadn't made myself a promise to try not to use upper-level epithets on this blog.

I still have no damned clue why these stupid-ass pro-lifers feel justified in threatening or killing people who perform abortions. Don't they realize that the same right that allows them to freely express their opinions allows the abortionists to freely ply their trade? And if they're so riled up about people "killing babies," then how in hell do they justify threatening or outrightly taking the lives of already-fully-developed people who have an impact on society and who others may be dependent on?

Yes, the Planned Parenthood clinic my mom works at received a powder package yesterday. Yes, my mom was there at the time. Yes, the FBI came to the clinic. Yes, I'm damned upset, although I realize that it's probably just a scare tactic using talcum powder. And yes, I'd be swearing a hell of a lot more here right now if I hadn't made myself a promise to try not to use upper-level epithets on this blog.

My roommate apparently has developed a fear of picking up the phone when he doesn't know who it is. We got a phone call about 10 minutes ago (my phone/answering machine is in the living room, I had left the cordless handset charging in the unit) and he was in the living room while I was in my bedroom, he let it ring until the caller ID came up -- this took 1 1/2 rings. Our machine picks up after 4 rings. When the caller ID came up, he yelled out, "It says 'out of area,'" so I responded, "Well, pick it up then." He said almost pleadingly, "But it says 'out of area.'" I heard his girlfriend say, "What's that mean? Why can't you just pick it up?" The phone's still ringing. I finally just yelled out, "So pick it up!" On the fourth ring, he finally picked it up just before the machine would've gotten it. I'm thankful he did, since it was my parents calling long-distance to let me know they had arrived safely in Arizona, where they're spending this week looking at potential retirement places.

While Caller ID is a great thing and it allows me to duck calls I don't want to take, it's not perfect and I realize calls will occasionally come up with just a phone number or "out of area." I'm not anti-social so I will pick up the phone if I don't know who it is, but I have no idea what would cause a person to develop a phone phobia, except maybe being clubbed over the head with one repeatedly. My roommate, on the other hand, has developed the habit of just standing there and looking at the caller ID readout when it comes up with something he doesn't recognize, as if divine inspiration will suddenly cause the identity of the anonymous caller to blossom in his head. And I can pretty much guarantee that it's not gonna happen