Ok ok,

What would the world be like if people said whatever they were thinking, all the time, whenever it came to them? How long would a blind date last? About thirteen seconds, I think. “Oh sorry, your rear end is too big.” “That’s okay, your breath stinks anyway. See you later.” “No problem.” “Goodbye.” “Okay.” “Thank you very much.”

Dating in modern times is actually a big improvement on past civilizations. You know that in ancient tribal cultures, they would sacrifice a virgin. This is true. They thought that would accomplish something. They would find some girl that had never been out with anybody and they would throw her into a volcano. Now there’s a first date she’ll never forget.

The worst dates are often the result of the fix-up. Why do we fix people up? Because you think they’ll have a good time? Who the hell are you? Its a little power trip isn’t it? You’re playing God.

Of course God was the first person to fix people up. Fixed up Adam and Eve, you know. I’m sure he said to Adam, “No, she’s nice, she’s very free about her body, doesn’t really wear much. She was going out with a snake — I think that’s over though.”

To me, the fix-up just doesn’t work. You cannot fix people up. It doesn’t work because nobody wants to think that they need to be fixed up. You cannot get that out of your mind; it affects your attitude when you meet the person that you’re fixed up with. You go, “Well, I guess everybody thinks I should be with you.” I was fixed up one time. Couldn’t deal with it. The whole time we were out, I could feel the puppet strings of the fixer-uppers on me. I couldn’t even operate my body.

Cheers.
ps: Don’t throw virgins into volcanoes please, we need them.

Ok ok,

I painted my room again.

I’ve been living in my current room for years and years and every time I paint it, it kind of gets me down. I look around and I think, “Well, it’s a little bit smaller now.” I realize it’s just the thickness of the paint, but I’m aware of it. It just keeps coming in and coming in.

Every time I paint it gets closer and closer and closer. I don’t even know where the wall power outlets are anymore. I can’t even find them. There’s too much paint. I just look for a lump with two slots in it. It looks like a pig is trying to push his nose through from the other side. That’s where I plug in.

I like my room. I like it neat and I like it clean. Neat and clean. That’s the way I want to live. My idea of the perfect room would be the bridge on the BattleStar Galactica: big chair, nice TV, remote control. That’s why BattleStar Galactica really is the ultimate male fantasy. Hurtling through space in your living room, watching TV. Hell, that’s why all the aliens were always dropping in, because Adama is the only one who has the big screen in HD.

Yup, neat and clean. That’s the way I like it. But I don’t like cleaning. Clean, good. Cleaning, bad. You add the “ing” and it’s a whole different thing. So, I’ve decided to get a maid for my room. That’s right, just my room. But I don’t really feel comfortable with the maid either because there’s that guilt when you have someone cleaning your room and you’re just sitting there doing nothing.

Cheers.
ps: Cleaning my room now.

Ok ok,

I will never understand why they cook on TV.
I can’t smell it.
Can’t eat it.
Can’t taste it.
The end of the show they hold it up to the camera, “Well, here it is. You can’t have any but i will share it with the audience. Thanks for watching. Goodbye.”

Men seem to flip around the television more than women. Men get that remote control in their hands, they don’t even know what the hell they’re not watching. You know we just keep going, “Rerun, that’s stupid, he’s stupid, she’s stupid, go, go, go.” We are goldfishes in that aspect.

“What are you watching?”
“I don’t care, I am just going to keep flipping channels.”
“Was that Gurmit Singh?”
“I don’t know who or what it was, doesn’t matter, it’s not your fault, I am just going to keep flipping.”
“I think that’s a documentary on your father.”
“Don’t care, what else is on?”

Women don’t do this. Women will stop and go, “Well let me see what the show is, before I change the channel. Maybe we can nurture it, work with it, help it grow into something.” Men don’t do that. Because women nest and men hunt (Feminist: Please come back in a century, the words might have evolved). That’s why we watch TV differently.

Before there was television, kings, emperors, pharaohs, barons and Dukes … I wonder how they flipped off.

Cheers.
ps: I broke my remote. And yeah, TIVO Rules.