“You’re Gonna Love My Nuts”

There’s only one thing on Earth better than the Slap Chop. And that’s the Slap Chop Rap.
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Sushi You Can Sleep With

In the wake of last week’s blog, I spent the week mulling over the sinking feeling that something is not quite right in our world—that maybe there’s something missing. I think everyone gets this feeling from time to time: Most of the time the answer is common sense or good taste. For me—at least this time—neither satisfied.

So between alternating gulps of antidepressants and tears, I sought desperately to answer the question of what’s missing in my life. And then it hit me.

In what kind of unjust world do I have to separate my sushi and my sleeping?

And then the good Lord Jesus Christ bestowed upon me a marvelous gift—something far better than inheriting the Earth (which I’ve heard isn’t that great anyway).

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The Internet is Super

The quantity of really strange people in our world is pretty staggering. For those who consider themselves at least semi-normal, these people are pretty hard to ignore. They’re everywhere: you can find them in the form of the roommate who sleeps on a university mattress without sheets. Or the 40-year-old next door neighbor who carries vodka-seltzer water to her car, only to return with a package of Depends. Or maybe the thug who gets beat up outside of your house and leaves torn-out dreadlocks behind—all over your car—as his only calling card.

Not that any of this comes from personal experience, of course.
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I Love the Internet.

Healdsburg, California is where fun goes to die.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s a nice enough town, centered around a pleasant little town square where community events and farmer’s markets are held with frequency, and nearly everyone knows each other. Most everything is centered on wine, wineries, tasting wine at wineries, or emptying your pockets on material yuppie garbage. Crime’s low, schools aren’t overcrowded… it’s a pretty good place to raise cute little urchin children, especially if you want to indulge your own narcissistic illusions of wine connoisseurdom while you bounce a tyke on your knee. (more…)