There Are Deals, and There Are DEALS

This is truly a great day: the third volume of Kissology (strangely enough titled Kissology 3) is being released. More importantly, there's this: every year my company gives out "superlatives" for various things that people at work superlatively do in a superlative fashion. This year, I successfully retained my "Most Likely to Get Spams" superlative; in addition to a trophy and the respect and adulation of my peers, this award also earned me a gift certificate at Best Buy. Accordingly, I am happy to report that I picked up the latest Kissology for a mere $1.24. $1.24! For 5 discs of pure Kiss rockingness! That's what economists call "a good deal." Now, I know that most of you wouldn't watch 10 minutes of Kissology even if someone paid you $1.24 to do so (I can respect that--we can't all like stuff that doesn't suck), so perhaps you don't understand just what a steal-type-deal this super-cheap Kissology acquisition really is. Let me put it in terms that will help you understand the situation: getting Kissology 3 for $1.24 is like Lindsay Lohan getting a big bag of cocaine and two tubes of herpes cream for 5 bucks. It's like Larry Craig getting 1,000 dildos in exchange for him singing a showtune (of his choice). It's like Dick Cheney getting a tube of Brylcreem made from the blood of Gitmo detainees and a no-bid contract for Halliburton for a high-five and a howdy do. It's like all that and more. Do you see now how awesome this is? I hope so, because if not, there's nothing I can do to help you at this point.

Now that I'm on the other side of 30, I find that I'm losing my hair at a pretty alarming rate. The thing is, I have really light hair, and the cat who lives in my house, Casper, has white fur; so, I'm constantly finding hairs on my shirt that I have to remove and then hold up to the light to determine who it belongs to, me or Casper. I know that I'm a pretty paranoid person, but even with that being the case, I'm pretty sure that Casper is spreading his fur on my clothes when I'm not looking in order to continually bring to my attention the fact that I'm going bald. I guess the lesson here is simple: never assume that just because you scoop someone's poop up and put it into a bag that that person will be nice to you.

Deep thought of the day: if I could travel through time and beat up just one writer, it would be Robert Heinlein. What a fucking douche bag that guy was.