Over half of the letters in my junk mail box today had something to do with enlarging my ding-dong. I have to assume that if someone is spending the money it takes to send 7 kapillion e-mails out every day, someone somewhere is paying for it. Some loser with a two-inch wang is taking seven different kinds of pills a day and checking for growth that will not come. Pun intended.

The one e-mail I got from “The Chubb Institute” was not about my penis. Oh, the irony.

The rest of it was requesting me to purchase a bride from Russia, so just for fun I wrote them a note and asked how they shipped them (you know, do they poke holes in the boxes and give them a litterbox?) and what I should do if she arrives dead.

I just wish someone would offer me some discount inkjet cartridges.

Last night, I saw that an icon of eighties fame has shown his face again. The Ladyfriend kept saying that the guy in the Dead Zone advertisements looked like that dorky guy from Sixteen Candles, Breakfast Club, and Weird Science. I kept looking at him, and was in denial, as those are three of the best movies I have seen in my life, and he was frozen in time to me. How could he have gotten all old and adulty all of a sudden? It’s not like I have aged…er…anyway. I was on the fence, but a brief internet search revealed that Anthony Michael Hall had in fact gone from this:

To this:

I know he also starred as Bill Gates in “Pirates of Silicon Valley”, but I didn’t see it and I wouldn’t have recognized him. Now he plays a psychic who can hold a pair of panties and tell you how the girl wearing them died, if she was, in fact, a girl. WITHOUT SMELLING THEM. Therein lies the brilliance of the program.

There are certain actors I can’t take seriously. Anthony Michael hall is one of them. I grew up watching him make a girl using his commodore 128 computer and then getting all squirrelly about it. Then he had braces and tried to get laid in Sixteen Candles. How can anyone expect me to believe he is now a remote viewer and all mystical and deep and stuff? Come on.

I have a similar relationship with Nicholas Cage. It still escapes me that anyone can believe this guy in a serious role. I think he’s good when he does this:

He always looks like he’s just stopping short of understanding where he is and what he’s doing, so these roles work for him. When he does this, though:

He looks like a huge choptard and I want to punch him in the face with a bat. Most people don’t share my opinion of him, but what’s new?

I discovered this weekend that my cat has a foot fetish. If you leave any kind of shoes on the floor, she will sleep on them. I have no idea why, but to test her taste in shoes, I put some flip flops, rockport dress shoes, some work boots, and a pair of tennis shoes on the floor in the living room. She prefers the rockports. If anyone has any idea why my cat likes shoes, please let me know.

Also, I have become frustrated with the city of Atlanta. I decided to get a chameleon to keep in the big terrarium I built. I used to have one a few years ago, and they are possibly the coolest animals in the world. Plus, they look like this-

So I’m thinking, Atlanta has a population of around 5 million people, so even if there isn’t a single hobby shop that is worth a damn, there has got to be a pet shop that handles exotic reptiles, right?

Wrong.

It seems that this massive city can support 752,823 coffee shops, 140,002 identical bars and clubs, 434, 978 crappy restaurants, 3,682,240 places to buy dried flowers and tole painting supplies, 2,354,921 places to wash your dog, but not one single pet store that even knows what a chameleon is. We have the Petsmart chain, but anyone who buys a reptile from those turdhammers is destined for a pet that will live all of three weeks. If you are a pet freak like I am, you are probably slightly repulsed when you walk into a Petsmart. The test to see if you want to buy anything from them is to walk in and ask a question you already know the answer to.

Me: So, these hamsters, do they need a big cage?

Pet store guy: AAAGGGHHHH!

Me: hmmm…

Pet store guy: My shoes are good.

Me: What about Chameleons? Do you guys have any of those?

Pet store guy: Green!

Me: Yes, they can be green. Very good. You want to draw a picture of one?

Pet store guy: (wets pants and runs squealing to the back of the store. Several crashing sounds, and a manager comes out)

Yes I made that up. This part actually happened-

Manager: Can I help you?

Me: Do you guys ever have chameleons here?

Manager: Sure, we have some right here (points to a cage full of southeastern Anoles, which are sometimes called chameleons by the young and/or retarded)

Me: No, like the kind from Madagascar. Freaky big eyes, weird feet, long tongues…

Manager: We had some here a while back in that cage over there, but they are hard to keep, and they died.

Me: Oh, so you kept a highly territorial species in a small cage with sixteen of his friends? (this is really basic knowledge if you have ever done that least amount of research, like, say a Petsmart manager should probably do)

Manager: They’re territorial? That must be why they were fighting.

Me: Ya’ reckon so?

So now I am looking for a reputable place online that can ship me one overnight. Oh goody. Now I get to pay an additional $30 to make sure it gets here alive. I don’t need another dead Russian bride rotting at my doorstep. Dead girls are easy, though.

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