Thanks to Big Old Body, I now am aware of the scariest man on amazon. Check out the book review list, no I'm not going to tell you what's in it. Go on, click the link, but be afraid... be mildly, mildly afraid.

Okay, so I admit I'm not that much of a cooking person. Don't get me wrong, I can cook well, it's just that I can only make a few things, which I think is pretty much limited to:

• Stir fried vegetables, tofu and noodles
  
• Tacos, Quesedillas, Burritos, etc.
  
• Pasta with homemade sauce and grilled vegetables

That's all I can think of off the top of my head, and before you say that list sounds awfully short, let me just say that when I make these things, they are goooood. This ain't no slap-some-Prego-on-some-spaghetti pasta, I take time and effort to grill the peppers and zuchinni with olive oil, make a yummy sauce with 6 different spices and fresh chopped tomatoes and shredded carrots (sounds weird, but it's goooood). So I do a few things well.

Baking, now that I can do. I bake like a champ (Yes, I mean like baking cookies, smart-ass). I always mess up the directions. It always turns out great. Must be my mutant power.

Anyhow, the point I was making here (And you never would have guessed it otherwise) is that I see a fair amount of eggs. And only recently have I seen eggs with the expiration date stamped on the side. Wouldn't it make more sense to print an expiration date on the package itself?

Anyhow the point I'm trying to get around to making is. If they can print on eggs, they can print porn on eggs. And if they can print porn on eggs, then you could have an Adult-themed Easter Bash!!! Wouldn't that be awesome?

Okay, I admit, I was just trying to wrap a post around the fact that eggs have expiration dates now, something a little more interesting than, "Whoa! Eggs have expiration dates on them. That's fuckin' bizarre!"... sigh... I knew this "train-of-thought" thing would catch up to me eventually. I think I'll make myself a cape cod.

"I may be a phony but at least I don't pretend to be interesting!"

Apparently, Disney is planning on remaking "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves"... as a kung-fu movie. No I'm not making that up, at least I'm not making up the fact that some guy at Ain't It Cool said so.

I, for one, am pro-kung-fu-anything. I may not agree with Disney's decision to remake snow white into a kung-fu movie, but as a staunch kung-fu advocate, I must respect their right for them to do so. I may not agree with all kung-fu, but I firmly believe all kung-fu has equal protection under the law.

And one final link for today. Crap. They cut out the one scene which might've made the Scooby-Doo movie decent. How many of ys have thought it woudl be totally rad if Daphne and Velma suddenly went at it? Many. How many of us thought it would be rad if Scooby and Shaggy went at it? Not many.

The kiss was considered too titillating. They felt it would make people chuckle and snicker."

Yeah, God forbid anyone should chuckle and snicker at a Scooby-Doo flick. Of course they could still save the film with one big bong-ripping scene, but then again, every screening of this movie is going to be one big bong-ripping scene.

I've stumbled upon yet another wealth of bizarreness in the Petition Online web site. After a brief look-through, my favorites thus far are 1337 sp3ak in 5(}{00l !!, Final Fresh Prince of Bel-Air Episode, and Let Britney Spears Dress as She Pleases.

If you have ten minutes to spare, the introduction to Harry Potter: Witchcraft Repackaged should provide you with a few chuckles, forehead slaps, or an insight into just exactly how the devil is recruiting your children!

Once I get a regular job, I'm goign to have to get myself a copy of this. But I can't really justify spending $25 on a hour-long VHS tape, even if it's supposed to save my children. Shouldn't they be a little more generous about spreading the knowledge that will keep little kids from burning in hell for eternity? Well, I guess everyone's got to pay the bills.

Now why is it that right when my bank account dips down so far that it's into the single digits (yes, that includes cents), I get my first e-mail ever from BofA, asking me if I'm thinking about buying a house?

I'm not sure how I managed to live in Santa Cruz for 18 years and not once even become aware of one of the city's greatest landmarks.

Bomb.Talk about turning your swords into ploughshares.

Our household received a piece of mail for an ex-roomate from Marlboro for this "Head West" contest, which allows you and a buddy to party hardy at the Marlboro Ranch. Only thing is, I can't enter it, yes I'm 21, but I'm not a smoker (Although it doesn't neccesarily say that one must smoke Marlboro Brand. But I bet you'd wind up strung from a tree if you lit up a Kent at Marlboro Ranch). I'm serious, it says right here, "Participation limited to smokers 21 or older", "...sign your name in the spaces provided on the entry form cerifying that you are a smoker, 21 years of age or older..."

Wow... I mean, not that I'm really craving a trip to Flavor Country, but that's pretty odd. Granted, I don't think any non-smoker would enter the contest (Unless it was a ploy from those irritating anti-smokers at http://www.thetruth.com to film another cinema verite PDA), but isn't excluding people on the basis of not-smoking illegal? Okay, scratch that, I'm sure Philip Morris checked that out extensively, but how could they tell? Heck, I'd take up smoking for 5 days and 4 nights to get a chance for a free vacation. I'd just quit when it was over...

.... or maybe they just want me to think that I can quit...

On a related note, here are the ingredients for Marlboro King Size Menthols, from Philip Morris' cigarette ingredients website.

• Tobacco
  
• Water
  
• Sugars (Sucrose and/or Invert Sugar and/or Corn Syrup)
  
• Glycerol
  
• Propylene Glycol
  
• Cocoa and Cocoa Products
  
• Licorice Extract
  
• Menthol
  
• Carob Bean and Extract
  
• Natural and Artificial Flavors

Sugar? Cocoa? Licorice? Is it just me, or do those sound delicious? Mmmm.... cigarettes.

Seeing as how a good portion of my time at the office administration job (essentially, I'm a secretary, but I didn't get squat for Secretary's Day) is spent playing those fun little bundled-in nuggets of fun: Minesweeper, Solitaire, and Freecel, I'm going to spend some time not playing them but instead writing about them.

Minesweeper

... is frustrating. I like to pretend that I'm a rational person with logical thought-processes and problem solving abilities, so I generally try to deduce where the mines are, but my best time on expert mode is a whopping 339 seconds. Jackie, on the other hand, clicks away at the mofo like she's stabbing a hooker and consequently has an expert time of like, 30 seconds. I suppose that just playing hte odds and assuming a huge space will open up from a random clik works well over time, but if I wanted to waste my time playing a game based on luck rather than logic, I'd play...

Freecel

I want to cheat at Freecel. It continously tells me that "The move is not permitted", and I'm like, "I don't care, if I were playing this in real life, I could do whatever I want with the cards, so this simulation is inferior to actual cards." And then it's all, "Your mom is inferior, jerk". And then I beat its ass so severely that it went crying back to Bill Gates. Namby-pamby Win95 app, that'll teach it. Now I'm just trying to find the special numbered game that let's you instantly win once you click on anything. I'll tell you this, it's not anything between -2 and 50, I've tried 'em.

When I try to actually think my actions through and plan ahead a dozen or so steps, it's not that tough to complete a game of Freecel, but I'm not as familiar with it as I am with:

Solitaire

Solitaire is the lonely man's game. So of course, I've played it a lot in my day. It was really not interesting to me this umpteenth time around until I invented:

XTREEM SOLITAIRE

That's right, for Xtreem Solitaire, all you need is a game of Solitaire, a good imagination, and it helps to have a gambling problem as well. Now, you assume on game start that it cost $200 to play. The points are the amount of money you've won back. And you only have 2 minutes to finish a game, whatever points you have then is how much money you've earned, subtract that from $200 and you get your losses. It's balanced just right so that you always think you can earn your money back and you end up throwing it all away, but you do get the occassional thrilling windfall. Of course, if your imagination is too good it can get kind of depressing when you realize you can't stop even though it's costing a bundle. But hey, that's better than real gambling, right? Plus, I am now a pretty damn good Solitaire player, even if my nervous sweating is staining my shirt like crazy.

Next on The Empty Office Entertainment Guide: Cubicle Hurdles!

I wonder if United and American retired flight numbers 11, 77, 93, and 175? That would only seem proper.

And I would just like to say a big "Thank you!" to crazy-dancing guy. Not any specific crazy-dancing guy, but crazy-dancing guys in general. Thank you for being unquestionably the most wacky rug-cutter at the party. As much as I seem like a really cool and comfortable kind of individual, I really am self-conscious on the dance floor, or pretty much any floor. When I am getting my groove on, I constantly ask myself, "I have this need to get down with my bad self, but not so far down that I draw attention to my bad self." With crazy-dancing guy on the scene, I know that if anyone is receiving attention for their dance-floor antics, it's crazy-dancing guy.

So thank you crazy-dancing guy, whether due to the influence of mind-altering chemicals, or simply a healthy case of dontgiveashititis, you allow me to get down to my preferred depth without worrying about being the goofiest guy on the floor. You rock.

Ah, I just finished washing off the rave gravy accumulated from a day and night spent up in the hills of Marin County at an extremely pleasant , teeny-tiny, little itsy-bitsy awesome party. It was excellent, all the proper ingredients, good people, good music, outdoors, underground, and small. If only DOnna could have joined me it would have been perfect.

We showed up about 6 hours early, intending to help set up, since I was riding with the DJs, and we had no way to contact the organizers, and since it was out in the middle of noweher, and we wanted to avoid ranger sundown patrols, we went cruising for dinner into a small small town, the kind with dark secrets. It didn't help that we were trying to freak each other out in the car, "Dude, what if you were driving and you saw a human head in the road, would you swerve out of the way, stop, or just run it over?"

I think our big-city mentality took over and convinced us that there had to be something wrong with a town having a population of 400. Like they must wither all be cannibals or Klan members secretly. It didn't help that there was a gas station across the street from the restaurant where we stopped for chow, and said gas station's windows were all missing, replaced by clear plastic, which shifted in the breeze and made it look as though there were ghosts inside, since there were lights on. Also, there was a fellow coming out of the station and taking packages to this car, which drove away and came back fo rmore packages, so we're pretty sure he was running drugs, although the car must have just been taking them right down the street, since it came back so quickly. Either that or he was clearing stuff out of the no-window gas station. I like the first explanation better though.

Anyhow, the party did get started, executed and summarily cleaned up in a proper and decent manner. Getting down and funky with my bad self in a freezing outdoor environment to sweet beats with a head full of gin and tonic really helps clear out all the badness right quick.

And now I'm cruising on 25 hours wakey time, so I think I'll kill this raspberry Bismarck and get my ass into the beddy bye.