Archive for May 2009

Busy Bee

May 27, 2009

For the past week, and for the next ten days or so, work has been and will be a bit more hectic than usual.  I’ll be going in early here and there, sitting in on meetings, taking conference calls, and taking on extra work.  We’re getting ready for our yearly audit, which basically consists of a specialist coming in and observing our operation for a few days in addition to him going through our paperwork with a fine-toothed comb.  Basically, we’re just working at getting all of our ducks in a row because this annual audit affects several aspects of our jobs.

What this means for us (as in you and I): Not only am I borderline overwhelmed with work, and not only is my schedule going to be slightly sporadic for a while, but I’m having a tough time conducting a thought long enough to convince anyone else that I am indeed a functioning member of society.

So, please be patient with me.  I will write when I have time.  I’ve got a few things in mind, just gotta find a chunk of time to get them out.  As for now, I spent the ten minutes I had to spare today writing this.  Now I’m off to work early for a meeting.

I just didn’t want anyone to think I was slacking.  I still love all seven of the people that read this, so for now, bare with me and you’ll get your fix soon enough.

One love,


Spring Cleaning

May 21, 2009

First things first.  Julie, demanding a “nice long post” to hold you over for the weekend puts a lot of undue pressure on me.  I woke up today with absolutely nothing in my head, and now I’m expected to magically produce blog gold for you?  Doesn’t seem fair to me.  Sure, I haven’t written anything since last Friday, but I’ve been busy, Julie.  The worst part is, though, that at least once a day something pops into my head and I’ll think to myself, “Ya know, that could make for a good post.”  Trouble is, within an hour or two, I forget about it.  I really need to start writing stuff down.

In the meantime, I’ve had some things lingering in my brain over the past week.  I’ll see if I can muster a post, just for my friend Julie. Have fun in the land of no internet.  Might as well go live with the Amish for the weekend.

— I went to Target yesterday to pick up a few things that I needed.  I’ll preface this by saying that I somehow manage to run myself out of almost every toiletry I have at the same time.  Toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, face wash, body wash, mouthwash, handsoap, deodorant, the works.  I was dangerously close to being out of all of them.  So anyway, on my way back home, I saw a homeless guy standing on the corner just across from Target.  Now usually, these fellas are holding signs evoking sympathy from us, hoping to guilt us into helping them out.  This guy, this guy was different.  His sign said, “I COULD REALLY USE A BEER.”

Mad props, mister homeless man.  I giggled.  On a related note, I’ve always wondered where these guys get the stuff to make their signs.  I mean, it’s not hard to find cardboard, but is a Sharpie the one thing these guys cling to as they lose everything?  As their life comes unraveled, and they lose their job, and any family abandons them, and they pick up a habit of offering oral sex for cocaine, is that black magic marker tucked tightly in a back pocket for future use?  Are some homeless men more creative and Martha Stewart-like in their sign making?  Is there a chapter of homeless guys out there with signs that look like high school cheerleading posters?  Are they busting out glue sticks, glitter, and colored markers?  I can tell you one thing for certain: If I ever came across a homeless guy with a bedazzled sign, I think I’d have to stop and give him a pat on the back.  But no money, he’s just gonna buy smack with it.

— Now that it’s finally, finally, nice outside, I think I am going to commence with my annual spring cleaning this weekend.  I keep a pretty tidy place, but a couple times a year I like to go buck wild on it.  I’m talking full-on, balls to the walls, rubber gloved, I’d be proud to have Oprah in my home, head to toe cleaning.  Only problem is … I’ve got a lot going on this weekend as it is.  Work Saturday morning and night, with a tee time scheduled with Hammen in between likely assures that nothing will get done that day.  And since Hammen is in town for the weekend and I’m only human, I’ll probably end up going out Saturday night after work, which effectively takes early Sunday morning out of the equation.  My only hope is that I am able to roll out of bed Sunday before the clock gets to PM numbers and get busting on it.  If that doesn’t work, then I’ll probably trick my Mom and Grandma into coming over and cleaning for me.  Don’t ask me how I’ll do it, but something tells me I could pull it off.  They both love cleaning, and they both love me, it has to work.  Then, the only question that remains is, would I feel bad about lying in bed while my Mom and Grandma are laying down elbow grease to make my apartment look like a Mr. Clean commercial?

— In an effort to be even more of a dork than I already am, I went to the midnight opening of Terminator Salvation last night with a couple buddies from work.  I won’t ruin anything as I’m sure most people haven’t seen it yet, but if you’re a fan of the series, it’s worth checking out.  It is MUCH, MUCH better than T3 (which, let’s be honest, doesn’t take much).  It was two hours of non-stop action, and we finally get to see John Connor vs. SkyNet, which was a reality I had hoped for in T3. Christian Bale is one of my favesies when it comes to actors as of late, and he did a really good job in my opinion.  I was, however, mildly distracted throughout the movie wondering which scene it was when Bale screamed at that guy for walking around behind the camera during a take.  Nevertheless, I liked it.  Plus, there was an extended trailer for the new Transformers movie, and you had better believe I’ll be there for that one too.  Maybe even at midnight the night it opens again.

Well, Julie, I’m sorry, but I have to get ready for work.  I wish my week had been a little more eventful, for your sake.  I have a feeling this weekend will evoke a few blog-worthy events, so by the time you rejoin civilization and the land of working internet, I’ll possibly have another post waiting for you.

One love,


(Insert Catchy, Applicable Title Here)

May 15, 2009

It’s a lazy Friday for me, so I can think of no better time than to fire out a few of my letters to various people, places, and things.  This is good for two reasons.  First, my brain is the consistency of a snickerdoodle milkshake right now, and I’m having trouble holding on to a thought for longer than 20 seconds.  Second, I’m fairly sure that if I think too hard today, I am going to pass out and die.  Just a suspicion, but why risk it?  Onward with the letters.

Dear ESPN,

Here is a short list of things no one cares about, and therefore it would be quite acceptable for you to cease and desist from further covering them: Brett Favre, Manny Ramirez (sorry, Hammen), Michael Phelps’ return to the pool, Brett Favre, A-Rod, anyone else allegedly on steroids, Brett Favre, Brett Favre, Brett Favre, and Brett Favre.  I’d rather watch highlights of an underwater chess match than turn on SportsCenter only to have the first half hour tainted with the likes of the aforementioned topics. If you have the audacity to call yourself the “worldwide leader in sports,” then you should start acting like it.

Dear Mother Nature,

Okay, we get it, you don’t like us.  We’re in mid May and the last few days have been nothing short of miserable.  Wednesday it was in the 30s with rain and wind, no fun for anyone.  This being said, if you could find it in your heart to shape things up around here, it would not go overlooked.  I’ve got golf on the brain but the game just isn’t as fun when I have to wear a sweatshirt and a jacket.  Please find a way to remind us what the sun looks like and get us back to normal temperatures.  And almost as if it were on cue … it just started raining.  I see this is going to be an epic struggle between you and I huh?  Well bitch, bring it on and see what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

Dear Sheriff Who Pulled Me Over On My Way To Work Today,

Thanks for not giving me a ticket for rolling through that stop sign. A written warning was much more appropriate if you ask me.  I mean, why is there a stop sign at that intersection anyway?  Pretty useless if you ask me.  Anyway, thanks for not giving me my third ticket in the past six weeks.  Turns out I’m not the best at parking legally overnight or following the speed limit on the highway, so this was a nice change, and my wallet thanks you.  On the other hand, why, when you first approached me, did you ask where I was going?  I’ve always wondered why police do that.  If I had looked you dead in the eyes and said, “I’m on my way to cook up some crack with a couple of hookers and a few Portuguese friends of mine who, by the way, are not legal citizens of this country,” would that have changed things?   Just curious, because the next time you pull me over, I might not be on my way to work, I might, in fact, be on my way to do exactly that.

Dear Select Group of Co-Workers,

Please stop talking me into going to Buffalo Wild Wings after work on Thursdays for 60 cent boneless wings.  That place, although tasty, is like getting kicked in the nuts, for your stomach.  I also liken the experience to that of paying for sex.  Seems like a good idea at the outset, but afterwards you’re filled with high amounts of regret and shame.  Not that I’ve ever paid for sex …

Dear Landlord,

Since you decided to raise my rent almost 15% starting in July, please kindly kiss my ass.  I’ll make you a deal, I’ll pay the rent in full every month on time  … as soon as the maintenance guy comes and fixes the shit in my apartment I’ve called three times about.  This would include the closet door, the carpet by the bathroom, and the floaty-ball-thingie in the back of the toilet.  If you send out a memo that says that tenants are not allowed to tinker with things when they break, then tell the maintenance crew to get off their asses, put down last month’s Jugs magazine, and get to work.

Dear BlackBerry Messenger,

You are an absolute Godsend.  Just when I thought texting was the greatest thing since pants with pockets, you come along and one-up it.  The only problem is now I’m up all night talking to people because it’s so easy and convenient.  It probably doesn’t help that the people I’m talking to are the bomb-diggity, but I can’t hold that against them.  I’m just going to have to alter my life a little bit to adjust.  I am no longer Mike, I am Mike + BB Messenger.  The union thus far is a match made in heaven.  A new paradigm has been born.

Dear Southgate Bar,

Please prepare yourself, as the day grows closer when Hammen comes back to town, and that can mean only one thing: you will be taken over.  Tell your blackjack dealers, bartenders, drink runners, even the guy who stocks the bar before we get there (actually, be SURE he gets this message) that we’re coming.  I’m not gonna insist you rope off a blackjack table just for our group, but it wouldn’t hurt.  That way when Hammen orders a Margarita again this time, it’s only us there to mock and judge him.  I have a feeling that someone that night is going to be so drunk, one of us gets a voicemail like this: “Hey, you guys have to come pick me up.  I’m trapped in a cul de sac because the road disappeared.  Which street is it that has the bushes that whisper sweet nothings into your ear and has the wobbling purple Pokemon?  Please come get me, I’m scared.”

And on that note, I’m gonna call it a weekend.

One love,


Guilty As Charged

May 13, 2009

As I’ve shown before, I’m not afraid to make a fool of myself on the world wide web (see this post).  This is going to be somewhat similar to that one.  Yes, I encompass a varitable universe of bad decisions and questionable choices, and a few more are going to be discussed today.  Today, we’re gonna talk about my guilty pleasures. 

I’ve got a few of them, some more embarrassing than others depending on who I’m telling them about, but I am not afraid to tell you, my faithful readers about as many of them as I can think of.  I know you don’t judge me (except of course Eric and B-Weezy, they are like a supreme force of hate when they’re together) so I’m not afraid to air my shit out.  Oh, and just to clarify, the following are in no particular order. 

– Wrestling.  I am hooked to Monday Night Raw.  Hooked might even be an understatement.  I spent my childhood watching wrestling, but gave it up somewhere in my teens in lieu of women.  Now, I’m back at a point in my life where I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about me, and therefore, every Monday night, you can find me plopped in front of my television from 8:00 to 10:00 watching the good ol’ WWE.  I’m like a 10 year old about it too.  I cheer for certain people and I despise others, all the while I’m telling myself that what I’m watching is nothing more than a soap opera full of 260 pound men on steroids.  I don’t care, I love it. 

– While I find it slightly embarrassing that I watch wrestling, I think that is easily topped by the fact that I watch The Hills.  I’m a little behind on this season, but I have seen every episode before it, and I own season one on DVD.  Yeah, you read that right.  I actually spent American dollars in exchange for a three disc set full of Lauren, Audrina, Heidi, and Whitney.  The best part about the show is that I watch it through my On-Demand menu, so there are no commercials, and since the show lacks a whole lot of substance, I can knock out an episode in about 18 minutes.  If I fast forward through the recap of the previous episode, the montages of cars driving or skyline shots in between scenes, and anything Brody Jenner says, I can watch a whole episode in the time it takes my chicken nuggets to cook in the oven.  Brilliant show, let me tell you. 

– One item started as a guilty pleasure and has turned into a part of my everyday lifestyle.  Many moons ago, one shy ninth grader woke up for school and found himself out of clean boxers.  So, rather than put on a dirty pair, he simply went commando and headed off to school.  By about second period, I realized that not wearing underwear was the greatest thing in the history of the human race.  Fast forward to today.  It’s ten full years later and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve worn underwear since.  Seriously.  I own one pair of emergency boxers, just because I’d hate to be in a situation where I need a pair only to be without one.  (Even though such a situation hasn’t been presented yet).  Junior and senior prom, I went commando in a rented tux.  Yeah, I know, questionable choice. I played sports high school – football, baseball, and track – and not once did I wear anything between my uniform and my birthday suit.  Track was the tricky one, but the shorts were baggy enough to where it didn’t matter.  Bottom line, if you ever see me in person, there is a 100% chance that the only thing between you and my crotch is a pair of jeans.

– This one is the most recent of my guilty pleasures, and was only undertaken due to peer pressure from JK.  He kept telling me, “Dude, trust me, being on Twitter is cool.  You can look at all these celebs who write funny stuff.  It’s great, you gotta do it.”    So, I got sick of him harassing me about it, so I signed up.  Actually, it’s not that bad.  Sure, it’s a minefield of douchery and loserness, but I steer clear of all the World of Warcraft players and stick to the stuff I like.  I follow a few of my favorite musicians, a few celebs, and a lot of sports mediums.  SportsCenter is on there and gives updates several times an hour about sports news and such.  My boys from PTI are on there, and let me tell you, if Tony Kornheiser is on Twitter, then that makes it okin my book.  I also follow a few coaches of college teams to keep up on news in that world.  It’s just another way for me to kill time on the internet after I read the handful of blogs I read, Facebook my heart out, and look up Asian midget porn. 

– I love romantic comedies.  Love ’em.  Call me a girl, I don’t care.  Tell me you know I’m gay, go ahead.  I’m very cinematically diverse and I like it that way.  Sometimes I’m in the mood to watch Ahhnold chase the Predator around the jungle with Jesse Ventura, and sometimes I want to watch Jack Nicholson fall in love with Diane Keaton only to get swept up in a love triangle involving the two of them and Keanu Reeves.  (By the way, that movie is Something’s Gotta Giveand it’s one of my favesies).  I have several movies sitting on my shelf that I’m sure raise a decent amount of doubt about my sexuality, but I like to keep people guessing.

– The last one is probably the lamest of them all to me.  There is a lady at work who brings in her subscriptions to Us Weekly and Star magazines every couple weeks, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hooked on them.  Granted, I would never go spend $3.99 on one of these myself, but if they’re just sitting in the front office while I’m doing paperwork, then I will certainly go out of my way to grab one and browse it on my break.  I like to know who’s dating who, who’s cheating, who’s getting beat up and left on the side of the road, and who got caught trying to pick up a transvestite hooker on Hollywood Blvd.  This way, when I meet Jessica Biel, we’ll have plenty to talk about en route to her falling in love with me.  Makes sense right?  No?  Oh well, story of my life. 

Don’t judge me.  I’m just a man, same as you.  Now, I want to hear some of your favorite guilty pleasures.  Feel free to omit the one about getting tied up with barbed wire to a telephone pole and getting sodomized with a zucchini, I don’t need to hear about that.  Aside from those types of things, I want to be dazzled. 

One love,


Sometimes One Is Better Than Two

May 7, 2009

I’m at somewhat of an awkward age right now.  I’m still young at heart, and yet week after week, I hear about people I went to school with who are getting married, having babies, or in a few cases which I can only assume to be accidents, both.  Each time I hear about such an incident, I think to myself, “Wow, I am really not ready to do any of that.”

I’ll be 26 in two months and the thought of being married or having a baby right now makes me regurgitate in my mouth ever so slightly.  I’m not opposed to either idea, but I am in no position to even consider myself ready for them.  I mean, how can I be expected to take care of another human being when I find it completely acceptable to eat spoonfuls of peanut butter straight out of the jar while I drink beer and watch wrestling … alone … on a Monday. That’s just how I roll.

This is not to say that I’m not gonna be a badass dad some day, because I have every intention of it.  It’s just that right now is not the time for it.  Right now, I’m really enjoying where I’m at.  The single life is one that treats me just dandy.  I’ve dabbled in a couple of semi-long term relationships, and both were good to an extent, but I just find that I am much more suited for the single life, for many reasons.

Let’s review Mike’s benefits of being single.

– I don’t have to answer to anyone.  This can mean several things, but the biggest part of this is simple: I can do whatever I want, whenever I want to do it, and I don’t have to consider another person’s feelings in any of it.  When I was in relationships, I often felt like I was missing out on things.  If a few of the guys were going out for a beer, I was that guy who had to say, “Nah I can’t go guys, I promised the lady I’d watch The Notebook with her for the ninth time.” But when I’m single, all of that goes out the window.  If I want to sleep until noon and then go hang out in a strip club all day, then son of a bitch, I can do it.  Not saying I do that, but if the mood strikes I’ll be damned if anything is going to stop me.  When you’re in a relationship, it’s a lot of give and take.  It’s a lot of calling to check in and make sure you can do the things you want to do.  I was never a fan of this conversation:

“Hey baby, it’s me.  Hey, I was wondering.  Um, look, I know it’s your second cousin’s third birthday next Sunday, but a guy at work got tickets to game 6 of the World Series and I was wondering … could I maybe miss the birthday to go to the game? Oh, oh, yeah, no I understand.  Yeah, totally.  I mean, I know she’s never met me, but you only turn three once in your life and there’s a World Series every year.  No, you’re right, I SHOULD be there. Okay, I’ll go. No I wanna go.  No I’m not just saying that, I can’t wait to meet little Melinda.  Yeah, Marissa, that’s what I said.”

I think you smell what I’m cooking here.  This example not only illustrates my point, but it also provides us with a segue into the next benefit of singleness.

– I don’t have any mandatory tasks outside of my everyday life when I’m single.  I don’t mean to sound like an ass, but when I’m in a relationship witha girl, I don’t want to feel like I’m obligated to go with her to things I would never, ever do on my own.  It’s one thing to invite me over to hang out with your fam on Christmas, but do you honestly think I want to go see your cousin sing in her school talent show?  But if I say no, I’m a selfish asshole.  It’s a lose-lose.  The same process applies to birthdays and anniversaries of the girlfriend’s family.  Yes, tell your grandpa I said happy 85th birthday, but in my defense, he isn’t going to care if I stay home and watch “Deadliest Catch” in my underwear all day.  Hell, I’ll bet he doesn’t realize that I’m not there.  Hell, I’ll even bet he doesn’t realize that he’s there.

– As a single man, I’m actually allowed to talk to females.  Now I know not all girls are going to fit the mold I’m about to describe, but I know that most are.  Girls, in short, are crazy.  This is not a pig-headed, misogynistic claim by me either.  I’ve been told by several girls that most women are a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic when it comes to certain stuff.  Included in that is the fact that girls tend to get a little weird when their man talks to other girls.  In every relationship I’ve been in, I couldn’t even talk to another girl without later giving a 45 minute explanation to my girlfriend about how I know her, why I’m talking to her, and why I’m pretty sure that just because I talked to her doesn’t mean I am going to run away from you and marry her tomorrow.  We are adults, we are going to know people of the opposite sex from school, work, through other friends, and from that time when I accidentally walked into the girls’ bathroom at the bar and gave serious thought to just going into one of the stalls to pee.  This does not mean that I am in love with every girl I know, and it also doesn’t mean that just because I have had a conversation with one of them that I want to get in her pants.  Not all guys are like that, stop watching “The View” and join the rest of reality.  The only thing you’re doing with this persistent assault of non-stop accusations is pissing me off and making me want to cheat on you out of spite.  In the famed words of B-Weezy, if there is EVER a good reason to do something, it is out of spite.  Keep that in mind, ladies.  Until we give you a reason to suspect us of infidelity, give us the benefit of the doubt and be happy that even though we’re talking to all these good looking girls all the time, we still come home and cuddle with you. 

– The next article is not as clear-cut as the others.  This one has a few ins and outs to it (no pun intended).  We’re going to look at sex in a relationship versus sex for a single man.  Sure, sex in the beginning of a relationship is great.  It’s still new, and it’s happening all the time.  But as time goes on, it may have a tendency to get boring.  Well, maybe boring isn’t quite the word I’m looking for.  Let’s go with monotonous.  Granted this isn’t the case for all couples, but no one is going to trick me into thinking it doesn’t happen.  One or both members of the relationship become lethargic about sex, and it can be viewed almost as a chore at times.  That’s not exciting for anyone.  Half the fun of sex is the buildup, never knowing for sure if it’s going to happen, and the spontenaity of it.   When you get too comfortable in a relationship, the sex ends up becoming nothing but an extra half hour a day for you to think about your fantasy baseball lineup.  Come on, T-Rex doesn’t wanna be fed, T-Rex wants to hunt!  For a single guy, all the stuff that surrounds finding a sexual partner can be almost as much fun as the sex itself.  Of course, on the other end of the spectrum, sex for a single guy certainly has the potential to be happening less often than it does for a guy in a steady relationship, but that’s life.  In my book, quality supersedes quantity. 

Well this seems to be a good time to cut this one off.  Not only did I cover the basics and the big stuff, but I’ve got work to do and apparently my job isn’t paying me to write this blog (although it would be sweet if it was).  Fair warning, the items in this post were directed at no single person.  If any of my exes read this, please don’t call and scream at me, because I am not referencing any specific relationship of mine, but rather making general observations.  Plus, I don’t have three extra hours in my day to justify any of this to an ex, so just let it be. 

Also, I am not advocating that relationships are bad things, so don’t take this as me trying to break up all the happy couples out there.  I am all for that stuff, just not right now in my life.  And to anyone who reads this and is in a miserable relationship, maybe it will give you the push you need to end it.  Hell, if you still can’t muster up the courage, call me and I’ll break up with your boy/girlfriend for you.  What do I care, I don’t have to answer to anyone. 

One love,


I Got 99 Questions But A Bitch Ain’t One

May 4, 2009

We all have questions.  Why are we here?  Where are we going?  Who played Lumpy on “Leave it to Beaver?”   Well, I’m like everyone else, I have my questions too.  I wonder about stuff all the time.  Some thoughts are more mundane than others of course.  Like when I wonder what nacho cheese is made of.  It can’t be just cheese, so don’t give me that crap.

But other questions are slightly more, dare I say, profound.  Okay, I’m shooting fast and loose with the word “profound” here, but some of these are valid questions that I think deserve answers.  So in the interest of getting stuff done, I’m gonna air out a few of these questions and see if I can’t get some answers.

Q: How can USA claim to have three different shows that are “the most watched show on cable?”  Last week, I was watching my weekly “Law & Order: SVU” marathon on USA and I saw a commercial for the show “Burn Notice” which claimed it to be the most watched show on cable.  A couple hours later, I saw a commercial for “In Plain Sight” which made the exact same claim.  Okay, that’s kinda weird.  Two shows, both are the most watched show on cable?  I’m not the smartest man alive, but something isn’t adding up here.  Then came the knockout blow.  When I sat down to watch Monday Night Raw, and they opened the broadcast by saying “Welcome to the most watched show on cable television, Monday Night Raw!”  So is this just something USA will say about every show?  Are we supposed to just go along with this?  I am really unsure of how a network can get away with something like this.  I don’t understand how they think people won’t notice.

Q: Is there ever going to be an end to the A-Rod crap?  Now someone wrote a book in which accusations were made that he was using steroids in high school.  With that in mind, my follow up question is this: Does anyone, ANYONE, give a shit?

Q: Is there a team better at pissing games down their legs than the Minnesota Twins? If there is, I have yet to see it.

Q: Anyone else find it slightly ironic that a team who has the conceit to call themselves “God’s team” almost got killed when a freak windstorm brought their practice facility crashing down on top of them?  Hmm, maybe the Cowboys should rethink their tagline.

Q: What is happening to Tiger Woods?  I watched him start the day two strokes behind the leader yesterday, only to be almost totally ineffective off the tee and on the green en route to a fourth place finish.  He played downright poor whereas if he had played even at a moderate level, he could have made a run at the win. I hope this doesn’t become a habit with him. I actually like watching him play.

Q: Does HBO find it cost effective to show P.S. I Love You on two channels at the same time?  With my HBO package, I get twelve HBO channels, two of them in HD.  As you can imagine, I am very partial to anything in HD.  Over the weekend, both HD channels were showing the same shitty movie … at the same time.  I just don’t get it.

Q: Why does my apartment retain heat like an old woman in menopause?  We’re in the middle of a gorgeous 65 degree day, I’ve got my windows open, the lights are off, and I’m not firing clay pots in a kiln, so why is it 75 degrees in my apartment?  Can I get an official ruling stating that it’s hot in here because I’m in here?  I could use a self-esteem boost like that once in a while.

Q: Why have I not been treated to a Kentucky Derby recollection blog from Hammen yet?  Seriously, let’s get the wheels in motion on this one, Jim.

Any and all answers to the previous questions will be carefully considered before being dismissed as poppycock, hulla-balloo, and just plain bullshit.  Thanks anyway though.

One love,