Sugar, you feeling playful

For the love of all things holy, someone track down this man and shoot him. I mean, really, people. Think mangy dog here. Take him out to the back where the kids can't see him and shoot him. Put him out of his misery. What kind of life is this guy leading anyway?

because some random guy says it over IM, it must be true

Today's winner, and potential cause of my headache, is windsor_king on Yahoo. Do, please, everyone in Huntsville feel free to say hello, as he seems to insist that he's going to be visiting Huntsville in July.

I have my doubts.


Colorado is, after all, a landlocked state. Perhaps I should have considered this before attempting the quest I did on that warm winter day, but then again, sometimes you don't get to pick your quests. Your quests pick you.

I'd realized the shaggy state of my exercise swimsuit while I was in Colorado, and thought that since it was the off-season, I might be able to find a reasonably-priced swimsuit while I was on vacation. This, of course, led to the uttering of the World's Worst Sentence, which I knew better than to say but said anyway:

Which word needs a definition?

While we're at it, let's go for two in one day! Yahoo user aces_allnight14, a strong studly specimen hailing from Birmingham, Alabama, appears to be so absolutely desperate to get laid that he's trolling for nethoneys…and found (you guessed it!) me.

Tact, honey. It's about tact. Heard of it? It's that non-negotiable part between meeting a woman and clubbing her over the head for sex. Some people refer to it as "small talk." I like to think of it as an occasionally-useful part of the pre-coital process.

Gimme "connical" form, baby!

Ladies and gentlemen, a warm welcome to yahoo user cchodges, who was looking for a little fun on Valentine's Day and found … me. His profile, I might add, is listed as an "adult" profile. I submit the following transcript as evidence to the contrary:

Don't touch my fan, princess

I've begun to suspect that there's a new craze sweeping my gym, and quite frankly, I'd like to find out who started the craze so that I may kill them.I think of them as the Anti-Fan Nazis. They're the people who come into the gym, turn off all the fans, and proceed to do a workout so light and easy I hesitate to even use the prefix work- in conjunction with it. Meanwhile, those of us who are working out, truly working out, are dying on the elliptical vine, drowning in our own sweat.