I met my wife in school

It's true. I distinctly remember because there was this new kid in class on the first day of seventh grade, and the school had put her name down as "Dennis," and so for the entire day we got to hear all different teachers trying to make witty comments about how she didn't look like a "Dennis".

It's sad when teachers try to make witty comments. It's not that there weren't teachers with wit (remember, this was nearly 30 years ago, when schools were populated with teachers who had gone to college prior to the 60's). It's just that it's a bit of a humor-constraining environment. It's not like you can just blurt out, "I've never seen a rack like that on anyone named Dennis. Well, not since our '72 blowing league championship, at least," to a seventh-grader. The best you can really do is something like, "Oh. I guess the 'e' is especially silent in this case."

But that's probably not going to get many laughs.

--

I've decided for Christmas what I really want is one of those electronic rim shot/applause boxes. That way, I could better punctuate my continuous stream of "your momma" jokes. Except I can't find anyone who sells one. I mean, I've checked Amazon, plus both Google and Bing, and nothing. Closest I can come is a stupid iPhone app. And iDon't have an iPhone.

If you find one, send a link to my wife.

--

I miss wine. We had this spectacular roast beef on Sunday, and I didn't have any wine. I ran out of wine about 2 months ago, and I never replenished the supply. I decided it was an exceedingly bad value in terms of alcohol/dollar, so I cut it out of the budget. I ended up having to drink a combination of Diet Coke, Captain Morgan, and Jack Daniels with the roast beef. It tasted nothing like red wine.

--

Today, three different people commented on how "loud" my sweater was. All three were dudes. So I need to decide if (a) suddenly all my co-workers have become flaming homosexuals, or (b) it's time to update my sweater collection. I'm leaning towards it being (a), though honestly, most theories that require simultaneous failure of a number of unrelated systems turn out to be wrong.

I just don't get how it could be (b) though. I mean, my fashion sense is just spectacular. Like fucking awesome levels of spectacular here. You've all seen pictures of me. It's just got to be (a). There's no other credible explanation.

--

I need to defrost my bar fridge. I can barely get the ice tray in the freezer anymore. My next-door neighbor has a tap system in his bar. I am mightily jealous. Except the tap said "Bud Light" on it, so I'm jealous in a sad "how can you waste such a gift?" kind of way.

--

No, you can't retrofit a 2003 Dakota with the rear-seat headrests from a 2010 model. The only option is to buy a completely new truck. Damn shame, really.

--

I think the fact that Sam's Club sells cheese balls in a 3-gallon jug (which is only 35oz of cheese balls by weight) is affecting how well my pants fit. Though, honestly, if you eat 35 oz of cheese balls over the course of two weeks, will you really gain 35 oz?

I should probably do some sit-ups.

"Sit-up" is what men call crunches, for you womens out there reading this. I know when I do a sit-up, nothing crunches. I also know that if things start crunching while I'm doing sit-ups, it's time to stop and see an orthopedist.

Or it's time to see if any of the giant Madagascar hissing cockroaches have escaped.