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2010 starts off right with the release of two new Book Nook titles. Enjoy!

Wearing black doesn’t do you much good when the lights are on. Like a perverted Kato, Andy definitely had his….

See more titles in the Book Nook.

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Elvis Costello shared his Google Calendar with me today. No real surprises here…

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A few weeks ago I was in Bloomington, IN for the IU vs OSU football game. (long story)  The tailgate action was expansive and impressive.  Black yoga pants.  Everywhere.  And me, standing in the middle of it all.  The entire debauch scene reminded me of how much sex I did not have in college, and it made me very angry.

That’s why this brand new addition to the Book Nook is so fitting (and ironical).

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Two emails to customer service = nothing
One written letter to the CEO = nothing
One tweet = instant response

It’s official, Biofilm, Inc (makers of Astroglide) are not interested in Asstroglide.com (owned by yours truly.)

Time to contact Jergens…….

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It started as a funny conversation over a beer with a former co-worker. Chris (a chinese american) made the bold claim that the asian women that white guys find attractive are not at all the same women that asian men think are hot.

And so we decided to do a little experiment. We’d put a a set of asian cuties in front of two groups. Group A (Good Will Pumping): white guys in their mid-30’s on a hockey team mostly from Quincy/Dorchester. Group B (The Asian Mafia): guys from an all-asian softball team in the same general age range. We’d let the results speak for themself. This was going to be great!

To the interwebs I went in search of desirable asian labybirds. It seemed like a simple enough image search on the surface, but I quickly found myself re-routed over and over again into the more unsavory alleys of the internet. Mind you, I’m not complaining about this. But it made finding appropriate images more difficult than I thought. Due to this let’s just say of the 12 pictures below, a few of them may be polite on top but NSFW on the bottom.
So I sent the image out to my Groups with the following instructions: Rank each of the women based on attractiveness on a scale from 1-10 (with 10 being the highest) Pick your “Top 3″ women based on attractiveness, in order from 1 to 3.

The Results

Good Will Pumping: I get three responses to the survey with creative subject lines such as: Asian Buffet, Me Love You Long Time, and Yellow Fever. The results are all over the place. Girls 5 and 9 both made it into two of the Top Three lists. But girl #7 had the highest overall rating with an 8.3. This really chaps my hide because Chris cited Lucy Liu as a prime example of an asian woman white guys go gaga over, so I tried to slip her into the mix.

The Asian Mafia: I write to Chris with my survey instructions and 3 days later he writes back with a one liner, “They all look the same to me.” WTF?! Chris is asian and he’s… that’s what people accuse…. OMG.

Experiment over.

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The phrase Serial Killer Fridge started being used after I posted a pic of my refrigerator with nothing in it but an ostrich egg and a Brita pitcher.

I travel moderately for work now. It’s the perfect amount of travel actually. And I have every work trip I’ve taken in an excel spreadsheet, of course.

I love staying in hotels. But before I can feel comfortable and call a room my temporary home, a few things must be done. The first task is to sweep the room for all of the paper tents and placards. It’s amazing how many of these a hotel room can have. They’re everywhere.

They all go into a drawer, out of site. Same goess for all of the magazines, menus, book, pads of paper, etc.

Then I have to unpack fully.

The final step is the laying out of the toiletries, medical style. Tweezers, STAT!

Serial Killer Toiletries!

* M stands for moisturizer and C stands for cleanser.

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I was watching The Departed the other night. It’s always fun to watch a movie filmed in the city you live in, regardless of the city and regardless of how good or bad the movie is.

At one frantic part of the movie they play a well known Dropkick Murphys song. A song I’ve always recognized but never knew the name of or lyrics to. So off to the interweb I went…

Now these lyric sites are pretty much all the same. The page takes forever to load and you’re convinced a virus is being downloaded to your computer in that small window of time. And there’s always some sort of pop-up pushing a T.I. ring tone or some other nonsense.

What made me laugh this night was what I saw when I landed on a lyric site focused around the meaning of the lyrics. This is what it had for “Shipping Up to Boston,” the song in question.

Ha! I’m so glad DarkmasterOfTheLyrics broke it down for us.

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Exhibit A:
June 28, 2006: Andy writes about a Laugh Club.

Exhibit B:
June 03, 2009: the Boston Globe writes about a Laugh Club.

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“I had a dream that I beat Don Johnson up. I was Tom Magnum in the dream. I beat him up real good, too. All punching his head and stuff. Then he looks up at me and pleads not to hit him again, so I kind of get up and walk away. Then there’s a razor at my throat and he cuts my moustache off! Like Samson, I am drained of my power and that bastard Johnson takes off with the rest of my moustache. I don’t know what it means.”

That is from August 2004. And I’m not sure yet if this blog is real or not… but if it is… I love Tom Selleck.

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• Even though I’m in my full right to do it, I feel guilty putting my seat all the way back on an airplane. I feel bad for the person behind me.

• I have a frequent concern of overstaying my welcome, especially if it’s someone I don’t know well enough to trust that they’ll just tell me it’s time to go if they have to.

• The reason I haven’t written about my experience with the personal shopper is because I fear people will see how much I paid for it and judge me, or make some wrong assumptions.

• I find the “calf massage” part of a pedicure sort of creepy. Young asian lady at my feet, methodically stroking my leg over and over again, her eyes staring past me, glazed over. Just. Creepy.

• My Corporate Amex card has an expiration date of 9/11. And I can’t take it anymore. I’m calling them to change the date to anything but that.

• I troll Craigslist and eBay for gift certificates.

• I feel really awkward saying “sorry,no” to a homeless person asking for money, and then going into a store and buying something, especially if it’s food. I’ve altered my destination a few times because of this.

• I’m not sure I really like coffee. I think I might just like the ritual of it all. “Look at me, I’m a big boy now. I’m going to give you the money that I made at my big boy job, and then I’m going to walk with this beverage in a cup to my office. I have things to do!”

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I can’t make myself burp. I’ve never been able to do that. Over and over again people have tried to teach me this skill — for some reason they feel very strongly about needing me to learn.  To make me a man. (Good luck!)  “You just need to swallow some air!” I just can’t do it. I don’t get it. Sorry.

Which is why the following phenomenon is so interesting. And before I continue, I want to be clear that this is not some really corny joke or horribly bad pun. Every time I drive on I-90 to Western Massachusetts, and I pass by the exit sign for Belchertown, MA… I burp. When this happened the first time I just laughed and thought it was a comical coincidence. But this has now happened 6 times in a row. Every time. I look up. I see the sign. I burp. Is something psychosomatic going on or something?! I have no idea. Theories currently being accepted.

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• Every once in a while an ambulance will go roaring by and I’ll see someone on the sidewalk look incredibly annoyed and hold their fingers up to their ears, and I’ll find that very selfish considering what could be going on inside the ambulance at that moment.

• Some cars have aggressive looking headlights to me, and when I see them in my rear view mirror at night, they intimidate me.

• I can’t take a compliment. I “discount the positive” and come up with a list of reasons that negate it. I need to learn to smile and say thank you, and more importantly believe the words.

• I want to go to the Christian Science Reading room and casually read an issue of Juggs magazine.

• I tear up pretty much every time I watch “13 Going on 30.”

• A dream of mine is to have one of my dollar bills be the first bill spent at a new restaurant or café so it’ll be the one framed on their wall forever. I subscribe to local restaurant blogs and secretly stalk new places in an attempt to achieve this dream, which to date remains unfulfilled.

• Sometimes I sing the lyrics as “My Brown Eye, Girl.”

• I get mad when I see people riding those really low recumbent bicycles around the city. I feel like they’re really unsafe because cars can’t see you, and I feel like the only reason someone would get one these bikes is to get attention.

• This weekend I took a friend allergic to gluten to a placed called Flour. Idiot! This is trumped only by the time I took a friend suffering from cancer to the movie “Dying Young.” (I thought it was an action flick.)

• I’m still amazed that Ashton Kutcher never punked Bruce Willis. P*ssy.

• I don’t allow myself to get mad in relationships. It’s because I fear it will be an irreversible expression that will mean the end of the relationship. It’s not healthy and I’m working on it. But at times it’s what leads me to have exaggerated anger over other things. It’s because it feels empowering. I can direct anger at an inanimate object, situation, company, whatever, and it still feels safe because I’m not really risking anything personal in the process. It can be kind of funny and it makes you laugh.

• And I equate your laughter with like, so I do it more.

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