Letters to Larry

Dead To Me

2007-11-05T13:13:00.001-06:00

Larry,

This isn't the time nor the place to call out Stephen Colbert for stealing my ideas, but I did want to point out that I began a Dead-To-Me List back when it was unfashionable to do so. I was adding people to the list left and right all throughout my tumultuous twenties. A couple of years ago, when My Name is Earl premiered, I purged everyone from the list and decided that I'd be a little more thoughtful with regard to new additions. Like the novelty of MNIE, my maturity didn't last long. The list has since fluctuated between obesity and anorexia, depending on my particular mood. Lately, I haven't given it much thought. Until Sunday, that is.

I decided to do the grocery shopping on Sunday, before the girls made it back from Mississippi. Forced to choose between exorbitant Miss Cordelias and sketchy Kroger on Cleveland, I chose the latter because of the savings that I would certainly reap with my Kroger Plus Card. As I approached the store, I noticed a down-trodden and quite possibly inebriated fellow urinating in the parking lot. I can't say that I was completely unsympathetic to his plight but I was disgusted nonetheless. I promptly informed the security guard on duty and began my shopping. However, a fellow lady shopper belched within earshot of me and I decided to cut and run. I sought out greener pastures at the Kroger in midtown. Smart move on my part.

Needless to say, Kroger at 1366 Poplar Ave. in Memphis, TN, you are Dead to Me.

Hope everything is well in California. Your house didn't burn down in the Great Fire of 2007, did it? I hope not.

Paul

Desperate Housewives

2007-07-25T13:12:00.000-05:00

Larry,

I learned late yesterday afternoon that a coworker of mine has purchased, with American dollars, a real-life mail-order bride. Most of us here thought that John was a little creepy and now our suspicions are confirmed. Fortunately for all of us, in 2-4 weeks, he will be someone else's problem.

Interestingly, he is bragging about his latest purchase. If it were me, I would tell no one. Also, I would create an elaborate cover story and ensure that she learned it word for word before I introduced her to any of my friends or acquaintances. He PUZZLES me.

This woman is from a country that ends in -stan but it's not Pakistan. It is a former Soviet bloc country. I am going to try very hard to secure a picture of this woman. I will keep you apprised of my progress.

Paul

Hell's Kitchen

2007-07-24T15:00:00.001-05:00

Larry,

Do you watch Hell's Kitchen? Did you watch last night? Bonnie made an incredibly stupid blunder. At the end of dinner service last night, she was chosen to nominate two of her teammates for elimination. She chose Rock and Julia. Because she was the chef with the least experience, it was no surprise to me that Chef Ramsey asked Julia to leave. However, what Bonnie failed to realize was that with Julia gone, she (Bonnie) is now the least qualified for the position at the Green Valley Ranch. Had she nominated Rock and Jen, she would have at least eliminated one of her most serious competitors, and thus extended her stay on the program at least another week. But because of her foolhardy mistake, she has unwittingly sealed her own fate. Dumb, blonde Bonnie. Oh, how I wanted you to fare better.

This is trivial, I know but it really bothered me that she made such a critical error. I don't know why. I stewed about it for maybe 10 minutes after the show was over.

It's all moot anyway because Rock wins the contest. I believe that this is common knowledge.

I hope that I didn't RUIN it for you.

Be well,

Paul

a card for you

2007-07-23T15:36:00.001-05:00

A loved one, friend, admirer, or other computer user has sent you a card from someecards.com!

View card: http://www.someecards.com/upload/view_card.html?card_code=134a3f918f83ad9475f398f5e5f7b86d

Wrong Number

2007-07-18T12:38:00.001-05:00

Larry,

I just got a call from someone working at a local daycare that wanted to order one Large Pepperoni pizza. Despite my rather colloquial answer to the call and then subsequent stuttering in an attempt to understand why someone was calling me to order a pizza, the young lady persisted. She placed her order. I asked for her address and told her that it would be 20 to 30 minutes. I'll be honest with you-I've never felt so ALIVE!

Kids shouldn't eat pizza anyway. Don't they know, it's bad for you?

Hope all is well.

I should mention that we almost killed her new daughter after only 1 week of life. I will detail that experience at a later time. I am drunk with power at the moment and cannot concentrate.

Paul

Kicking and Screaming

2007-07-10T00:00:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Sorry I haven't kept you updated. I have been acclimating to a new and terrifying life. But I did want you to meet my number one gal.

Larry, meet Lilly.

Talk soon,

Paul

The Final Countdown

2007-07-02T23:27:00.000-05:00

Larry,

This is it. We're off to the hospital in just a few short hours to deliver this god-forsaken baby. She, that's made our lives pretty miserable for the last eight months or so. We couldn't be more excited! Also, this just in...someone's getting an enema but I'm not at liberty to say who. Stand by for the results of the APGAR test. Research suggests that this is THE litmus test to determine whether or not a child will be successful in school and thus, in life. We are anxious to review the results. Until then, Lily's a size Micro. Please get her something appropriate for the season.

Paul

Out of Order

2007-06-20T10:35:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Did I tell you that I witnessed a crime? No? Well then, let me tell you my tale.

It was late one night, a couple of weeks ago. I was outside at midnight hoping to catch a glimpse of a falling star or some other astrological phenomenon when suddenly, a woman's cry pierced the night like a metal stud does a nubile woman's ear. Frightened, I peered out from behind my fence to see what was afoot and sure as I looked, I spied a group of 4 people standing around a car. Two men and two women were present, of this I was sure. From the woman's continued screams, I could tell that she was distressed. I ran inside hurriedly to call the police. They did not respond quickly. I remained on the phone with them for ten minutes giving them my location and alerting them to the obvious-one of the men was abusing one of the women. By the time I got off of the phone with the police dispatcher, I missed most of the action. In fact, my last glimpse of the fray was simply of a man peering out of an apartment door, obviously checking to see if the ruckus had coaxed anyone out of their homes. He then retreated inside and I waited for the police to come.

The police showed up about 20 minutes after I had placed the call. A police officer came over to talk to me and then he approached, cautiously, the apartment in question. The abuser answered the door and was apparently sprayed with the pepper spray. Good job, police! They handcuffed him and as they led him to the cruiser, I brazenly yelled, "That's what you get for hitting a woman, B1TCH!" His head hung low so I don't think that I was spotted.

After all of the excitement, the arresting office came to take my statement. I offered what I knew and kindly gave him my address and phone number, adding that I would be happy to testify should he be tried for anything. The officer insisted that the personal information was for the records only and that I wouldn't be bothered in the future.

This was a lie. Don't get me wrong. I feel like it's my civic duty to testify however, I also feel that it's a police officer's responsibility to be honest with the citizenry. Maybe honesty is too much to ask. Still, I am thankful that they responded when they did. I could see how a domestic squabble might quickly get out of hand. I hope that the defendant spends some time behind bars although I fear that I will not be a very good witness for the prosecution.

I'll be at 201 Polar at 9:00 AM on the 27th of this month, being civic-minded. And because I have seen Dog Day Afternoon, you can expect a fiery testimonial from me regarding this heinous crime.

To be continued…

Paul

A Sign of Things to Come

2007-06-17T13:47:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Howdy, old friend. I heard through the grape vine that you and Laurie were splitting up. That's a shame. Really. I thought that if anyone could make, it would be you guys. I hope that you are well and aren't taking it too hard. Or maybe the rumor is a bunch of nonsense and there is absolutely no truth to those rumors. Which ever is true, I know that you'll soldier on.

Depressing.

Ok, so here's what's been going on in my life.

Anna's getting close to having Lily. In fact, she's begun having contractions and they seem to be more frequent lately. We now believe that the projected due date of July 2nd is an overestimate. In fact, Anna feels like it could happen any day now. Exciting stuff for a first time parent. I know that you've already done all of this so I won't bore you with my excitement and anxiety. But it's happening soon.

Also, I've decided that I want to be a pharmacist. Actually, Anna's father, Dan helped me decide that. I won't get into the conversation that we had about it. Nevertheless, I'm going back to school. I've got to take some prerequisites-nine to be exact. Then, I can take the PCAT, which is the Pharmacy school admissions test. Also, I'll have to apply to UT Memphis and get accepted. Then, I can start the 4 year program. So, lots of hurdles. But I'm taking Microbiology and Calculus this summer. Hopefully, I'll have the pre-reqs done in 2 years. So, if all goes according to plan, I should hold a Pharm D when I'm nearing 40. C'est la vie.

Ah...we got a new family-oriented vehicle. A Honda CRV. It's nice. What else...

I don't know. That's it really. We watched a good movie last night. Notes on a Scandal. Where was Cate Blanchette when I was in middle school? Despite my jealousy and incredulity, I enjoyed the movie. Dame Judy Dench is the bomb! Also, this just in-I am retarded.

Ok, so I need to work on Calculus. I'm not enjoying that nearly as much as I am the Microbiology class but what are you going to do?

We're registered at Baby's R Us if you want to get a gift for Little Lily. If not, I understand. You're busy with your own life. But a Prius would be nice. Forget I said anything.

That's all I got. Take care of yourself. I'll check in with you again real soon. Hopefully, I can live blog the delivery. On the other hand, Anna might have other ideas. She has privacy issues.

Later,

Paul

Grand Central

2007-05-01T13:59:00.001-05:00

Larry,

I wanted to tell you about Grand Central. I've wanted to tell all my friends but seeing as how I don't have very many, it's been difficult. Anyway, this company does some exciting things with the phone. Basically, they want to give you a phone number that you'll have for life. You enter your area code and then they let you choose between several available numbers. Then, once you chosen the number that you want, you set up your account, attaching all of your current phone numbers-work, home, cell phone, to your account. Then, you let all of your contacts know that you have a new number. In the future, when someone calls the Grand Central number, all of your phones ring. So, no matter where you are, you get that very important phone call. But wait, there's more. There are tons of additional features. For example, when your phone rings, you'll hear a recorded voice announcing the caller and asking you if you want to accept or reject the call. But the lady also asks if you want to accept and record the incoming call. So, you can record your calls. Awesome! Also, you can upload your own ringback tone so that when someone calls you, they hear a song instead of a boring ring. Right now, if you called me, you'd hear Black Swan by Thom Yorke. That song rocks and the chorus is the best chorus that has ever been written since the dawn of man. That's pretty much a scientific fact.

Call me if you'd like to hear Thom or leave me a message.

901-562-0824

Cheers,

Paul

Update

2007-05-01T13:05:00.000-05:00

Larry,

I realize that it's been months since I've written. To be fair though, you haven't written either. I refuse to feel guilty-life is too short. Are we good? Good.

Ok, here's what's been going on since December…

It's a girl! We've named her already. Lillian Beckett Little. If you want to go ahead and get her a monogrammed onesie, feel free. We're going to call her Lily. I may call her Beck or Becks or Freedom Robber. I suppose that it depends on my mood. She's named after no one in particular. I chose the middle name in homage to my favorite playwright. Anna got to choose the first name since I picked out the middle. I can't recall why she chose Lily. Maybe an homage to Kate from Lost but that doesn't make much sense. That's something that I would do. See our dog Xander, of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame.

Speaking of Xander…

Jorge, our Guatemalan painter, was over on Saturday to paint Lily's room-a soft pink, if you were wondering. At some point, I opened the door to her room to check on his progress when Xander darted in and immediately stepped in the paint pan. Anna and I freaked, which freaked Xander out. He ran down the hall getting pink paw prints all over the carpet, the stained concrete floor in our living room, and the faux leather coffee table. Not only that, but he had pink paint all over his paws and belly and tail. We took him to get groomed later that day. I think that Kim at Pet Vax may have clipped his junk because it's a little scraped up. But that's neither here nor there.

What else? That's all I got for right now. I promised someone that I'd blog.

Paul

test

2007-04-30T13:20:00.001-05:00

This is only a test. Do not freak.

Gummy Bear

2006-12-13T23:43:00.000-06:00

Larry,

Look what we did on our honeymoon! I know that I told you already but I wanted to show you the very first picture that we have of our offspring. Mil says it looks like a gummy bear. She's also told us that we should get a t-shirt for the little guy/girl that says "Made In Costa Rica". Good idea for a baby shower gift. Joey called it a peanut. I'm thinking that there's something wrong with it's head. It's bulbous. It looks large to me. But I'm no doctor. We'll know more in 9 weeks-at least sex-wise. I'll be sure and drop you a line.

Paul

Old People

2006-12-13T12:56:00.000-06:00

Larry,

Good afternoon, sir. I hope that you are well on this fine December day. Me? Good. My fingers are cold. Nothing else. Just the fingers. Weird.

Hey, I wanted to tell you a story. Actually, not really a story. Just an anecdote. Well, if an anecdote is a story, then by gosh, this is a story. Last night, I went to see Anna's grandparents at their retirement community. Anna's mom called me last week and asked me if I would go. Apparently, it's sort of a show and tell for the old people. The way Anna's mom put it, it was a chance for the old folks to show off their family members. I missed most of what she was talking about but when I heard "free food", I agreed to come, even though Anna would be out of town. Solo trips are typically not for me. But I thought that it might be fun so last night, I went. Here are some things of note that happened while I was there.

1. I sat between Anna's mother and grandmother. While they talked, I shoved food in my mouth while at the same time moving plates so as to be out of range of the talk spittle. I took a couple of shots in the face, I'm sure. It was important for me to spare the food though. The face can be washed. Food-not so much. I'm sure I looked like a famished shell game grifter, sliding plates to and fro.

2. Mary and I got our pictures taken by a photographer working for The Best of Times, a monthly newspaper for the over 50 crowd. After we posed for the camera and wrote our names down for the caption, should we make next month's edition, I turned and immediately wished I could have that picture back. Facing a mirrored wall, I noticed that one side of the collar lie inside of the blazer and one collar sat awkwardly outside the confines of the blazer's collar. Old people everywhere are going to think I'm a fool. NUTS!

3. I decided to walk Mary out to her car. As we were headed out, we trailed a couple of young woman that we're also departing and as we moved from the lobby to the vestibule, I said, "I smell like Old People". You should have seen the look of horror and disgust on this girls face. It was awesome! I told her that I was only kidding. Sadly, I don't think that Mary heard it at all. Or else, she too was horrified. Maybe, that's the last event I get invited to without adult supervision. One can only hope.

Actually, I had a very good time. It was a little painful watching the labored dancing of the septuagenarians, but I couldn't stop smiling and tapping my feet as I watched these old cats get jiggy to the Christmas music. Well, there was this one old lady that was all hunched over at the buffet and I was sure that she was going to drool into the cocktail sauce but I looked away. Actually, I looked away only to discover that a young girl nearby was alertly watching the exact same thing.

So, to sum up: Good times. Old people are fun and they don't smell so bad afterall.

Paul

TV

2006-12-08T22:33:00.000-06:00

Larry,

Hey, I don't know what kind of music you like but if you were ever curious about new music, I have a suggestion...tv on the radio. They are, I've decided, the coolest band ever. Their sound is hard to describe but unforgettable once you've been subjected to it. And on their latest album, they're doing some things with white noise that I find very titilating. Return to Cookie Mountain, their new album, is great. It's all that I've been listening to for weeks now. In fact, at first I was in love with tracks 6 and 8. Over and over I would listen to them. I was so retarded back then. But then I realized that I loved all of the even tracks. So bizarre. What's even weirder than that is that I accidentally discovered only a week or so ago that I actually enjoyed the odd tracks better. Odd is better. Anyway, I thought that you might like a listen.

I told my high school chum Kevin that I thought that he'd enjoy these guys. I wonder if he ever gave them a listen. People that don't listen to tv on the radio are the saddest people in the world.

Happy Weekend.

Paul

Oh, here are those songs that I was telling you about earlier.

Track 6: The Method
Track 8: Dirtywhirl

Jobs

2006-11-30T16:08:00.000-06:00

Larry,

How's it going, old timer? I'm doing well. Just wanted to say hello. Let you know about some exciting things happening in my little world. Or, should I say, "Little World"? That joke never gets old.

Anna goes for her first ultra sound tomorrow. I think that I'm going to tag along to see what the baby looks like. I'm guessing that I won't be able to tell very much of anything but it will satisfy my curiosity.

I got a Wii last week. It's Wii-ly fun. Although, I think that I pulled a muscle playing so much; (the bicep, if you were wondering).

I think that Vietnam would have been a much more popular war had the turning point of said war been known as the Tit Offensive. It takes on a totally different meaning but, trust me, you would have loved it.

I thought of a sketch for SNL or even for Studio 60. I call it Pagan Girls Gone Wild. It practically writes itself. Nothing hotter than a Goth Girl flashing (boobs) and slashing (throats of livestock).

Oh, yeah. I'm thinking that I want to look for a new job. Not earnestly but in a very casual manner. I've made my resume public so maybe someone will happen along and find it and call me and offer me something that I will love. You can check it out here. If you know anyone that's looking, send them my way. Not opposed to relocating. Places that I would consider: TiVo, Anheiser-Busch, ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, UPN, HBO, AOL/Time Warner, Victoria's Secret, Oprah. Actually, I'm pretty open at this point.

So, not much of a point. Just wanted to say hello.

Oh, I'm reading a book right now that I can't get anyone to agree to read after I'm finished. However, I think that it's great and everyone should have to read it at some point in their lives. It's called The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. A must-read. And I mean it-you MUST! It's about Atheism.

Speaking of which, Anna and I had to drop by the grocery store on Sunday and pick up a couple of items. Actually, I went to the grocery store while Anna took a detour over to Hallmark. As I was entering Kroger, there were a group of ladies stationed in the lobby taking donations for something that felt church-related. I cut her off pretty quickly as she accosted me. "I'm an atheist", I said flatly as I sauntered by her. I've never seen someone look so horrified in my whole life. And I've done some horrible things. And I wasnt even serious. The Christians really have to lighten up a bit, I think.

Finally, I quit smoking. What a relief. I never thought that I'd get that monkey off my back. Thanks, Chantix!

Talk soon,

Paul

Fridays

2006-11-17T16:21:00.000-06:00

Larry,

It's been too long. I've been prodded into writing by my persistent neighbors. I gave in, reluctantly, even though you 1) did not show up for the wedding and 2) did not send a gift. Shame on you, sir.

All is forgiven. I haven't much time but I did want to share a couple of things with you before I go home for the long-overdue weekend.

Last night, I was preparing to see the doctor. You remember, Dr. Tu, right? Anyway, I had stripped down to my boxers when I suddenly decided that I needed some water. So, I ran out into the living room and into the kitchen to snag a bottle from the fridge when the doorbell rang. I froze. The path from the kitchen to the bathroom is visible from the front door. So, I thought, I'll just dart through the living room and if they see me, then they see me. I ran back to the bedroom and put all my clothes back on, and then hustled to the front door to see who it was. It was 3 kids selling subscriptions to the Commercial Appeal, our local newspaper. They started in with their spiel and I said, in sort of a country accent, "Commercial Appeal? Is that like a religious cult?". They laughed and explained that it was, in fact, a newspaper and further, that by buying a subscription, I'd be helping one of them pay for college. I immediately informed them, after my little joke, that I wasn't interested in the tripe that they were selling but that I appreciated them asking. They, still reeling from my amazing little one act, thanked me for doing something out of the ordinary and making their visit to my place different. "Different", I said, "Did you just see me run through the house half-naked?"

Silence. They left, hurriedly, mumbling things that I didn't want to hear. I sure know how to kill a party.

Speaking of killing, I was cutting up a tomato the other night with an awesome Cutco knife and I sliced my thumb up pretty bad. This is, by itself, uninteresting. However, today I was in the locker room, changing when I reopened the nasty laceration. It started to bleed profusely. I had one shoe on and one shoe off-I had just gotten out of the shower-so I hopped over to the paper towel dispenser to attempt to stop the bleeding. Just then Dave S. was getting out of the shower. I'm hopping around on one foot with blood dripping from my digits. So, naturally he asks what happened. And I said very calmly, "I cut myself...on purpose". You should have seen the look on his face. Priceless.

Cutters are fascinating, by the way.

I've got some more stuff for you and I'll get it to you this weekend.

Paul

Positive

2006-11-02T18:15:00.001-06:00

Larry,

Guess what? Anna's pregnant! I know that it's customary to wait some time before telling people but I wanted you to know. You are the 7th person to know officially. I hope that we aren't tempting fate by spilling the beans early. Here's my chance to prove my theory about Karma. Basically, I think that I've done so much bad in my life, nothing good will ever happen to me ever again. We'll see. I'll keep you posted. And I didn't forget about you either. I'll be sending you some stuff about Costa Rica soon. Oh, and we've got the wedding pictures as well. You can take a gander at those here. I hope that you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed being in them. Sarcasm, meet Larry. Larry, sarcasm.

Paul

GOP Candidate List for 2006

2006-10-24T12:49:00.000-05:00

--AZ-Sen: Jon Kyl

--AZ-01: Rick Renzi

--AZ-05: J.D. Hayworth

--CA-04: John Doolittle

--CA-11: Richard Pombo

--CA-50: Brian Bilbray

--CO-04: Marilyn Musgrave

--CO-05: Doug Lamborn

--CO-07: Rick O'Donnell

--CT-04: Christopher Shays

--FL-13: Vernon Buchanan

--FL-16: Joe Negron

--FL-22: Clay Shaw

--ID-01: Bill Sali

--IL-06: Peter Roskam

--IL-10: Mark Kirk

--IL-14: Dennis Hastert

--IN-02: Chris Chocola

--IN-08: John Hostettler

--IA-01: Mike Whalen

--KS-02: Jim Ryun

--KY-03: Anne Northup

--KY-04: Geoff Davis

--MD-Sen: Michael Steele

--MN-01: Gil Gutknecht

--MN-06: Michele Bachmann

--MO-Sen: Jim Talent

--MT-Sen: Conrad Burns

--NV-03: Jon Porter

--NH-02: Charlie Bass

--NJ-07: Mike Ferguson

--NM-01: Heather Wilson

--NY-03: Peter King

--NY-20: John Sweeney

--NY-26: Tom Reynolds

--NY-29: Randy Kuhl

--NC-08: Robin Hayes

--NC-11: Charles Taylor

--OH-01: Steve Chabot

--OH-02: Jean Schmidt

--OH-15: Deborah Pryce

--OH-18: Joy Padgett

--PA-04: Melissa Hart

--PA-07: Curt Weldon

--PA-08: Mike Fitzpatrick

--PA-10: Don Sherwood

--RI-Sen: Lincoln Chafee

--TN-Sen: Bob Corker

--VA-Sen: George Allen

--VA-10: Frank Wolf

--WA-Sen: Mike McGavick

--WA-08: Dave Reichert

Payphone Hacks

2006-10-23T15:55:00.000-05:00

Larry,

I know that you are anxious to hear about the honeymoon in Costa Rica. Fear not, old friend. Several posts are forthcoming.

Before I delve into the best honeymoon ever, I thought that I'd share with you my little stroll down memory lane.

For some reason, yesterday I got to thinking about Didi Black. You don't know her. I worked with her at Bennigan's (the worst restaurant chain on the planet Earth [and beyond]) and we quickly became friends. Honestly, I had a crush on her from the moment I met her. Alas, the feelings were not mutual so I pined from afar. And, at times, from very nearby. Regardless, she came to work one day and told me about a payphone hack that someone had told her about. She said that it had to be on a payphone with red on the exterior. You had to go to one of those payphones, call 1-800-Playtex, listen to a short message, and then the phone would disconnect. However, the disconnect would leave the line open, at which point you could make a long-distance call for free. I employed this method several times and was always rewarded. Thanks, Didi!

So, yesterday I was bored and I called (from my work phone) 1-800-Platex to see if the message was still there and, much to my surprise, a man answered. I, caught off guard, asked for Playtex and was met with a very, very surly, "Try playtex.com!" Apparently, Mr. 1-800-Playtex gets calls like this all the time. I guess he should have checked before he got that 800 number.

More soon.

Paul

Evil Mom, continued

2006-09-17T21:53:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Today is your lucky day. I've got more exciting things to tell you about my very dull and uncomplicated life.

On Friday, I uncovered more evidence that my mother may be the devil.

I was out walking Xander on Friday afternoon and I stopped by my mom's place to have a diet coke and talk with her a bit. She told me that she'd had a rough day at work. Playing the part of concerned son, I asked her for details. She's a nurse and she currently works for a company that provides home hospice care for people. For the past year, she's been caring for Judy, a mentally retarded woman. It sounds cool, I know. Sadly, Judy has the mental capacity of a 5 year old. This is problematic for my mother at times because Judy likes to play practical jokes, be disagreeable, and basically act like a child. Every day, my mom has to take Judy's vitals and document them. Friday, she was using a digital thermometer to take Judy's temperature. However, Judy was not cooperating. Normally, one inserts the thermometer under the tongue and then the instrument beeps when it has a reading. After 15 minutes without a beep, my mom questioned Judy. She didn't go into details but when I asked her what happened, she said that she basically tore Judy a new one. I think that she actually used those words. She said that after she had gone off on Judy for being difficult, Judy panicked and begged my mom to not forget to feed her. I listened, incredulous, as she told her tale. I believe that she was prepared to skip one of Judy's meals as punishment.

As far as I know, she fed her anyway.

Maybe she's not evil.

Talk soon,

Paul

Desperation

2006-09-17T21:40:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Hey buddy. How the heck are you? It's been a while. I haven't had much going on but darn it if I can find the time to write you like I should.

I am pathetic. I realize this on a daily basis. The story that I am about to tell you illustrates this point perfectly.

Two weekends ago, Anna and I went out to dinner with Jen and Diego. It was a farewell dinner of sorts as Diego was leaving the country for six months. We went to Houston's. The food is great but what really impresses me about the joint is the waitstaff. They are meticulous. This makes for a really enjoyable dining experience.

Anna and Jen ordered the Ahi Tuna. I ordered ribs. Big mistake. When our food arrived, I immediately asked Anna for a bite of her tuna. I immediately regretted ordering the ribs. That's what I get for going for portion over taste. So, I ate my ribs, all the while ruing the fact that I didn't get the tuna. Jen had eaten most of her tuna and when she passed Diego a piece of the tuna, I knew that she was probably getting full. With 2 pieces left on her plate, I was hopeful that they would soon be mine. Unfortunately, she polished off another piece and I was no longer sure that I'd be on the receiving end of her unwanted meat. With one piece of tuna left on her plate, she and Anna excused themselves and went into the bar for an after dinner smoke. Deigo and I chit-chatted sporadically in their absence. I was distracted by tuna. Suddenly, our waiter came by and reached down as if to take Jen's plate. With desperation in my voice, I exclaimed, "Don't take it! She's not finished!" He picked up her napkin and explained to me that he was just folding her napkin. I felt a little foolish, to say the least.

When the girls returned, I slaked my tuna thirst with her seared meat and I tell you, my friend, it was heavenly.

Pathetic.

Happy Monday,

Paul

Timing is Everything

2006-08-02T09:11:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Something's rotten in Denmark and by Denmark, I mean Memphis. I would like your opinion about something. I'm going to present you with a set of facts and then I want you to tell me what you think about what I've told you. Agreed? Let's begin:

Background: My mother is moving downtown. She's buying a house across the street. She will soon be a homeowner for the first time in her life. Pretty monumental. She has a dog named Pax (that's Latin for Peace). My mom's so smart she knows Latin. Respect. Pax is old. Maybe 11 or 12 which in dog years is probably 100. He's old; let's just leave it at that.

Timeline

3 Months Ago: My mom asks me to buy some UrineBGone. Pax is getting old and becoming incontinent. This spray, that you can only order on the Internet, is going to help get rid of the stains and the odor (this is relevant, you'll see).

Last Week: My mom tells me not to tell Anna but that she doesn't know if she's going to bring Pax with her downtown. She said that there was a woman she knows that had expressed interest in taking Pax. Mom said that her neighbor said that she was looking for an older dog. My mom was hopeful that this woman would take Pax so that she wouldn't have to make any decision at all.

Last Week (Again, but this time later in the week): I asked her if she had decided what she was going to do about Pax. She said that she was still thinking about it. I told her that I supported her if she was going to give Pax away. I mean, I couldn't really believe that she would do it but I supported her decision.

Sunday: She comes by to visit Anna and I and to take us out to Starbucks. We have Frappucino's. Mom had the Vente. That's Italian for Gi-normous. Yes, my mom's a polyglot.

Monday: Nothing happened really. I mean, some stuff happened. Nothing pertinent here.

This morning: I was using this website Jajah to prank call my mom and brother. Basically, you enter 2 numbers and the service calls and then connects both numbers. You can do it for your number and your buddy's number, but it's even funner to do it to two different people and then listen in on the ensuing conversation. Of course, I couldn't listen to my mom and brother talk. But it was funny enough imagining their conversation: "Mom, why did you call me?" "John, why did you call me?" Hilarious.

This afternoon: I was working out when I got a call from my brother. We chit-chat for a minute and then he started telling me about the weird thing that had happened to him earlier in the day-namely, that he received a phone call from mom but it was weird because she thought that he called her and he thought that she called him. Like I said, hilarious. Anyway, he tells me that mom is crying because Pax was dead. That he hadn't been feeling well so she took him to the vet on Saturday and they euthanized his ass. We saw her on Sunday, by the way. I don't remember if I had mentioned that or not. She didn't say anything about Pax.

Apparently, she is a murderer with a heart of stone.

I told John that she hadn't been sure about bringing him with her downtown. We quickly put 2 and 2 together.

What do you think? Coincidence? You be the judge.

Talk soon,

Paul

Ramblin' on my Mind

2006-07-19T13:23:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Yesterday, I forgot to mention that part of my nightly ritual includes walking Xander for the last time. Add 15 to 30 minutes onto the already established 30 minutes and there’s a whopping hours worth of things that I have to do before I go to bed.

But that’s not what I was writing to you about. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure why I was writing. Maybe it’s just to vent. We’ll see where this takes us.

I’ve been invited to a Memphis Blogger Bash. Would it make me more or less nerdy if I were to attend? I think that I’ll wait to see what they are planning. Free food will likely be the deciding factor.

Did you read about the cat born with two faces? I heard about it last week and then Jen mentioned it yesterday. Fascinating! I saw the video of the little guy meowing and the coolest thing is that both mouths mew in unison. That’s entertainment. But then the story takes a tragic and most unappealing turn. The kitten’s master, a young boy, was asked what he wanted to name the genetic freak, and the kid responds, “Tiger”. Tiger? Tiger! The child must also be a mutant because the only name that one can give to a feline of this ilk is Two-Face. That’s it. You have to draw a line in the sand. I could possibly go with Janus but that’s a little obscure for a toddler. Two-Face. Anything else is unacceptable. I’m serious.

I’ve decided that “Have a great day” is unacceptable in polite conversation. Whether it’s bidding farewell to a friend or completing your conversation with a random customer service representative, this manner of saying goodbye is horrible. It puts entirely too much pressure on the receiver. I mean, I never have a great day-ever. I’ve had maybe 2 great days in my life. The day I was born. I would count that. Of course, I don’t remember it but to finally escape the warm, gooey, disgusting prison that was my mom’s womb, I think, must have been joyous, to say the least. On a scale from 1 to 10, most of my days are a 5…maybe a six if I had to leave work unexpectedly. Days off, depending on my agenda, are better. Even if I have to go get a cleaning at the dentist. Especially if I have to go get a cleaning at the dentist. That day is a solid 7. I don’t normally see 8 or 9 days. And a 10 would be a great day. So, when someone tells me to have a great day, they’ve done me a huge disservice. They’ve put an inordinate amount of pressure on me to do something that’s virtually impossible. Be asked to shoot a guest spot on the Spice Channel’s reality series Who Wants to be a Pornstar? That kind of thing is out of my control.

I wouldn’t do it, by the way. Too self-conscious. Talk about pressure. Imagine performing while a room full of people watch. Impossible.

Have an OK day,

Paul

Routine

2006-07-18T19:04:00.000-05:00

Larry,

How's it going? Long time. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear that a lot. I think that I'm allergic to obligations. Work, returning phone calls, writing to my bestest friends. Get's harder and harder every day. But, in the spirit of shunning work-related obligations, I thought that I'd drop you a line. How are you? How's the better half? Kids good, I hope. All is well on this side. Summer is killing me. It's so hot here. I've been hearing a lot about Global Warming in the news recently, and you know what? They might be on to something.

This is the worst segue ever...

I've got to figure out a way to reduce the amount of time I spend in preparation for sleep. I sleep very little as it is. Six hours, usually. I think that I may have figured out the problem. My routine. Far too complicated. Here's what goes down every night for me before bedtime:

Neti Pot. Cleans out the sinuses. It's awesome. Trust me. I can't eliminate this. Never. (10 minutes)

Shower. After a long day, I need this. I can probably cut it out when it cools off. But when it's 85 degrees at 9 PM, I'm going to sweat. And if I sweat, I gotta get clean. (5 minutes)

Pre-brush rinse. (30 seconds) I do this for whitening purposes.

Brush (3 minutes) Got to brush-every day, 3 times a day. If you don't have your teeth, you are essentially a hobo. No offense to people with fake teeth. I'm sure that some of you are very productive.

Floss. I'm still working on my technique. This takes a little longer than I'd like. I start at the top, middle. Work my way back to one side. Then start at the back, on the same side. Take that all the way around. Then finish up the top row. (3 minutes)

Post-floss rinse (30 seconds) In case there is any bleeding, which normally, there is not.

Ok. That's maybe 30 minutes. Still, I feel like it takes longer. I think that I can trim that. I'm always looking for efficiencies.

I hope that all is well.

Paul

Getting Head

2006-06-30T13:03:00.000-05:00

Larry,

How’s it going, old timer? I’ve got a wicked headache right now that’s preventing me from concentrating on just about anything. Do you watch Jeopardy? Do you know who Ken Jennings is? He’s selling a big foam likeness of his head on eBay. I just bid on it! If I win, and I doubt that I will, this will be the best $10.00 that I ever did spend.

Take care of yourself and stay classy.

Paul

Update: I wrote this yesterday and then forgot that the picture of Ken’s giant head embedded in the letter wouldn’t show up on the blog without some trickeration on my part. So, follow the link to see it.

Also, I was outbid in a matter of minutes. Currently, the highest bid is $207.50. Too rich for my blood. Proceeds go to Cancer. I didn’t know that Cancer was broke but it has apparently fallen on hard times. Wait, that’s the American Cancer Society. My fault.

Layla and the Relationship that Never Was (Update)

2006-06-29T13:24:00.000-05:00

Larry,

What’s up buddy? I thought that I’d invite you over to www.uptownyak.com if you’d like to talk to me or any of my neighbors live and in person (sort of). We’re having a good time. Please note my tribute to Patrick Swayze and the awesome icon that represents the best movie that never got made.

And since I said that I’d have something original for you, I thought that I’d share this tidbit. My brother’s dating a girl named Layla and I thought about it for quite a while, I decided that I could never, ever date anyone named Layla. Technically, I’m barred from dating anyone indefinitely but I’m still trying to find a loophole for that rule. But I realized almost as soon as John told me her name, that if I were dating a Layla, not necessarily his, but any Layla, it would be impossible for me to go day without working Eric Clapton’s ballad into the conversation. I don’t think that it could be done. And this poses a multitude of problems but for the sake of brevity, I’ll only mention two.

First, she has no doubt heard this song a thousand times from people that thought they were being original or funny. She, I imagined, detests that song with every fiber of her being. I asked John and this is a point of fact. Layla hates Layla. Having said that, any references to that song would be out. So, if we were sitting at home one night and I found myself entertaining the idea of a snack, I couldn’t just turn to her and say (sung to the tune of Layla, of course), “Layla, would you make a sammich please. Layla, I want an extra slice of cheese, Layla”. I’m guessing that I wouldn’t get that sandwich that I so desperately needed. This poses a problem for both her and I. She’s pissed because I asked her a sandwich using the Layla song that she hates and I’m pissy because not only am I hungry, but I have to make the sandwich myself. I’ve given this a lot of thought, more probably than you could imagine, but I won’t do anymore situational examples. They get tiring.

Second, conversations between Layla and I, would be slow to evolve and perhaps even a little stilted. I believe that if she’d ask me a question, I would have to take a minute to see if there was any way I could work in the Layla song to my response. Then there’s a whole rhyming issue that I’d have to work out. What rhymes with chores? Bores, floors, doors, whores…You get the idea. Conversations would move like honey. All in all, it’d be a burden on us both.

So, John, I will not be stealing your lady. The possibility of our relationship is fraught with perils, aplenty. Rest easy, brother.

Hope that you’re doing well. See you on the Yak.

Paul

Update: Just had an interesting conversation with my brother. I told him that I had written about Layla on the blog and he naturally inquired about the subject matter. I explained to him the gist of my letter and he said, “You want to have kids soon, right?” I said that, in fact, I did. He then told me that it would be pretty hard to care for my kids when I’m face-up in a casket.

There goes your Christmas present, assface.

Warning to all: Do not try to date, woo, court, or flirt with Layla or you may find that you meet with an unfortunate accident. Or, perhaps she needs a tattoo on her backside that states, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”. I get the message, brother.

Paul

The Funny

2006-06-27T23:32:00.000-05:00

Larry,

I haven't the time nor the energy to be witty or clever or amusing at the moment. I have instead elected to go to bed a bit early. However, I wanted to let you know about this guy who's blog I stumbled upon today via TV Squad. In particular, read this piece about Follow-Up Calls. It might begin slow, but the denouement is phenomenal.

Beware afraid. Be very afraid...for Rapebear lurks in darkness waiting for his next victim-or the bus-or his next victim which is a bus. Just read it.

I'll be back with some original stuff in a day or two.

Paul

Pedicure

2006-06-26T13:49:00.000-05:00

Larry,

How goes it with you? Good weekend, I presume? Just wanted to tell you about my very first pedicure. A little too intimate, if you ask me. I mean, this Asian lady made love to my feet and calves with her soft, but firm, hands. It was pleasurable, for sure, but at the same time, difficult to enjoy. The problem, I think, was that I wasn’t sure exactly how much I was supposed to enjoy it. I had to distract myself a little so as not to enjoy it too much because I could definitely felt that I was on the verge of enjoying immensely.

Another thing that really prevented me from enjoying it as much as I should have was that this was not a typical business transaction, or at least, not one that I’m used to anyway. It’s rare that I receive a massage from the barista at Starbucks, although that might be nice, depending on who serves you. All in all, the experience was a bit askew.

Anna was pleased that I accompanied her and she didn’t have any problems relaxing and enjoying the pampering. The Asian lady and her daughter were tickled that I decided to participate in the pedicure though. They giggled and asked me if I was certain that I wanted to get them painted. Are you wondering what color I painted them? Black, of course. It goes perfect with my soul.

Plus, I read in Glamor (while waiting for my toes to dry), that black is the new white.

More soon,

Paul

Pickles

2006-06-25T22:32:00.000-05:00

Larry,

I know that it's been awhile. What can I say in my defense. Not jack. I'm just lazy, plain and simple. I did just find something that might amuse you. Over at Boing Boing, they pointed me over to You Tube to watch a clip from the Maury Povich show. Pretty funny but it's got to be fake. How can anyone be afraid of pickles? Clowns, I get. Heck, I'm afraid of bugs, snakes, heights, public speaking, balloons popping, anything with the capacity to fly-the list goes on. Pickles? Outrageous!

I feel better about myself after having seen that.

I hope that you are well. Much more about my weekend is forthcoming.

Paul

Oh, mother

2006-06-17T10:56:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Just wanted to check in with you and let you know that I'll be out of town through Tuesday of next week. Have a happy weekend. I'll be taking my notebook with me to make note of anything, well...noteworthy. I might also send you a little message via Audioblogger. I'd explain that but I doubt you'd understand, what with you being old and all. You'll see.

I wanted to at least share one story with you but I'm afraid that my time is up. We have to leave now if we're going to make the pontoon tour. Long story.

Take care,

Paul

McNightmares

2006-06-12T14:38:00.001-05:00

Larry,

It’s been a long time. So much has changed. I’m a bigger man; steadfast and sure-footed. Actually, sure-footedness is one of my special powers. I have many but no more that I wish to share at the moment. I did want to share this with you. I had to go to Wally World on my lunch break to pick up some groceries. This bastion of consumerism might as well be the weekly meeting place for the Bottom Feeders of America. I feel unclean having spent 20 horrifying minutes there. My visit was capped off by one of the most disgusting displays I have ever bore witness to in all my 31 years. The “family” (old woman, older woman, dirt child) in front of me were settling up with the cashier as I waited, my skin crawling with Mart mites. The trio had grabbed some McDonalds (conveniently located at the rear of the store) for some shop-snacking. Dirt Kid grabs his McBurger from the basket and begins to inspect it before shoveling it in his mouth. He pulls the top bun off to check out his McMeat and suddenly, the patty and one of the buns plummets to the ground. That’s not the sick part. He is not quick enough to exercise the 5 second rule but lazily picks up his fallen comrades after 8 (maybe 10) seconds, pieces his burger back together and proceeds to eat the hamburger with such relish that I was for a fleeting moment, envious. Then I threw up in my mouth a little and carried out my transaction, partially in shock.

I am afraid that I can never return and that I shall be forever haunted by this McMemory.

How are you? I saw your interview with Ricky Gervais. Good stuff.

Talk to you soon,

Paul

Let Me Clear My Throat

2006-05-27T03:32:00.000-05:00

Larry David,

What's up? Me? Kickin' it, Fuzzy Navel style. I ran out of beers and had to dip into Anna's peach schnapps. That's not a euphemism for vagina, either.

Nothing makes a man feel gayer than having to drink peach schnapps. Except having his balls licked by a gay guy. That would be gayer, I suppose.

Anyway, I know that if me and Anna ever get divorced, it won't be because of infideltiy or financial problems or conflicting idealogies. It will be because of my constant, chronic, and habitual throat-clearing. Every 30 seconds. Over the course of a year, that could be potentially maddening. I know that I would not be able to endure that sort of punishment. If you think about it, it's sort of like water torture only without the water. Anyway, I didn't have much to say but I did want to say that I called it. Five dollars if I get it right.

Holla at ya boy!

Paul

The Wedding Planner

2006-05-22T11:54:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Hey, I don't have time to talk right now but I wanted to let you know a couple of things:

1. I cried a little during the season finale of the OC. A couple of times, but ironically, not when Marissa died. I had been prepared for that. I think that I teared up a little during the graduation scene. Something about that graduation song that gets to me.

2. The wedding website is up and running and more than functional at the moment. Live links and current photos were added last night. I'll be adding more to the site in weeks to come. I plan on including some Easter Eggs for those that take the time to poke around. I would have done more last night but Anna poopoo'ed some of my ideas so I'll just have to wait until she's out of town.

I hope that you and your wife are well. I heard her on NPR last Friday. She seems delightful.

Paul

OC

2006-05-18T10:46:00.000-05:00

Larry,

I don't know if you watch The OC. It's a guilty pleasure of mine and I'm not at all ashamed to admit it. In high definition, it's one of the most stunning shows to watch during primetime. And I'm not even talking about Rachel Bilson, although she is quite fetching in HD. However, she's just as fetching in regular def so maybe I'm a little biased when it comes to her character, Summer Roberts.

If you do watch it, I know a secret. I'm sure that lots of people know by now but I wanted to tell someone because I just can't keep secrets bottled up. It will kill me. Must let it out.

Marrissa Cooper dies tonight.

Hope that I didn't ruin it for you.

Later,

Paul

Stanford

2006-05-17T13:24:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Hi ho. Remember how I was telling you that I filled out a questionnaire about Stanford on iTunes? Here it is. I'll let you know if I hear anything. Hey, you live in California. Pull some strings, my bro.

I believe that you should offer something of a reward to those students of learning that listen to your online lectures. What, do you ask? I feel that the decent thing to do would be to offer them a distance learning degree or an honorary degree of some sort. Set a goal for the number of hours that one must reach and then, when they've completed the requirements, give them a degree. Don't you give out honorary degrees for celebrities? Why not people like me? I'm not good enough? I haven't been in a blockbuster summer movie? Big deal. I bet you anything I'm smarter than Rob Schneider. Have you seen any of his movies?

Keep up the good work. I'm enjoying the lectures. I'll keep you posted on my progress. But if you decide that you want to offer these remote learning degrees, and you want to keep it on the DL, I'll keep quiet. I'll just hang it in my study with the other two degrees...that I bought on eBay. Just kidding. I earned them. Not from such an esteemed college as Stanford, but an accredited university nonetheless.

Paul Little

ps. I wrote this a few weeks ago and still haven't heard anything so I'm guessing I won't be the first to receive their Distance Learning Degree from Stanford. Who needs 'em? Maybe I'll just talk to Berkley. They are probably more open-minded anyway.

Later,

Paul

A Little Break

2006-05-17T13:19:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Hey again. I just wanted to remind you that you are invited to the wedding and to let you know that if you don't want to make the trip from California, you can always elect to simply send a gift. I'm thinking, Prius, but whatever you want to do is fine by me. Personally, I wouldn't want to go either. Weddings are just painful. I often think back fondly to the best wedding that I ever attended. This was more than 10 years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. The ceremony lasted all of ten minutes. Now that's the way a wedding should be. Short and sweet. Most marriages don't last long so why put everybody through a long and painful ceremony? It just makes sense to cut it short. People dread the ceremony and only suffer through that for the reception. At least, that's always been my position. Hopefully, ours won't be that painful.

Anna and I were talking about the ceremony itself and we were thinking of ways to make it a little more interesting. I suggested that in the middle of the vows, I pull out a long serrated knife and ceremoniously cut each others palms. Then have the priestess tie our hands together with a scarf or something. That idea, while Anna did find it amusing, was vetoed almost immediately.

Anyway, there are no live links yet on our wedding site yet, you can check it out if you want to hear an excellent Barry White song that Anna swears has a ten-minute long intro. See for yourself. I miss Ally McBeal.

We'll be updating the site this weekend. Hopefully.

Prius.

Talk to you soon,

Paul

iPaul

2006-05-15T10:46:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Hey again. I've been meaning to ask you something but I keep forgetting so while I'm thinking about it, I'm going to ask you. Do you have an iPod? What am I saying, you probably have a million gigabyte platinum iPod. What am I saying, you're old and you probably wouldn't know how to work it even if you did have one. No offence. But just in case you do, I wanted to tell you that both Berkley and Stanford are offering class lectures for free to download onto your mp3 player. In case you're interested in learning about Microeconomics or European History or US Foreign Policy. My favorite lecture so far is entitled "Why Zebras Don't get Ulcers", on the Stanford site. It's fascinating. And the professor is hilarious.

I hope that you enjoy it and if you don't know what an mp3 player is, then forget I mentioned it.

Once, when I was downloading some classes to my iPod from the Stanford site, I was asked to participate in a quick survey about Stanford on iTunes. I filled it out and near the end of the survery, there was a blank space where one could add any comments so I asked them if I could earn a degee, provided that I listen to all of the course material. I still haven't heard back from them. But that would be awesome. I'd love to add a few more degrees to my Wall of Degrees, which at present holds exactly two.

I think that's enough for one day.

No wait, there's more. Anna and I just purchased a domain for our website. I'll tell you about that later. I have to be productive since I've taken the day off. On second thought, maybe I should use this free time to relax.

Did you see Jerry and Julia and Jason on SNL this weekend? That intro was great. Where was Michael?

I'll write more later. Really. I'm going to spend some time alone in thoughtful meditation.

Paul

Poem pt. 1

2006-05-15T10:21:00.000-05:00

And now, a poem that has nothing to do with anything and yet, means everything. I didn't write this, Jacob did. Thanks, Jacob.

Asbestos tragedies,
mesotheliomas
happen most frequently
inside folks' pleuras.

Then they get bloodthirsty
mesothelioma
lawyers to harass their
stingy insurers.

Random Bits

2006-05-03T12:25:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Given my writing infrequency of late, you could consider this a flurry. Although, I would consider none of this to be exciting or important.

I took four showers yesterday. My OCD-like tendencies seem to be rearing thier ugly heads again. That was a bad analogy. I took one in the morning before work. Then I took another in the afternoon after I worked out. That one was absolutely neccessary. Next, I took one not long after I got home from work. I was just hot and I thought that a shower might cool me off. It worked, by the way. Finally, I took one around bedtime. Anna made chicken mushroom quesadillas and they were huge. Ah, she also made a salad to accompany dinner. So, I had my salad and quesadilla. Then, I polished off her salad and 1/4 of her quesadilla that she couldn't finish. I don't like to see food go to waste. Big mistake! I don't think that I've ever consumed so much at once. I hurt badly for 2 hours after dinner. Not to mention, I had the chicken sweats. So, shower number four was important for a number of reasons, namely so that I could cralw into bed and be comfortable. But that's a lot of showers. I have problems.

Oh, one other thing. I got home yesterday and the blender was on full blast. I was a little freaked out. I asked Anna, later, if she had used the blender that morning before she left for work but she said that she didn't. I've come to the conclusion that my house is haunted. Haunted by the spirit of a poor person that was once slain in Hurt Village. That's the housing project that was razed to make room for the Uptown homes, which is where we now live. Obviously, the ghost was jealous of all the fancy aplliances that we have. Poor ghost.

More to come.

Paul

By the way, the video that I included in my last post has now been viewed 79 248 times. And I got an email from some fellow in Canada. People are so immature!

That's hot

2006-05-03T11:16:00.000-05:00

Larry,

What's up, partner? How's it going? I'm ok. I wrote you a play.

[Phone rings]

RS: Hello?

V: May I speak to Radio Star?

RS: Speaking.

V: You're a dead man!

[End Scene]

Enjoy!

Pen Pals

2006-04-23T02:49:00.000-05:00

Larry,

What's shakin'? Not much here. Chillin'. Anna's gone to sleep and I'm left to my own devices. Big mistake! I did want to mention something that strokes my ego. I use the Google Analytics to see who all is reading my letters to you. That's natural, I would assume. As it turns out, Martyn reads the letters. However, this hasn't always been the case. Seems that one day, Martyn was looking for something that involved foreign objects in the ass and happened to stumble upon us. What was he looking for? We'll never know. But he did get caught by his employers, which is funny in it's own right. He was rebuked but in the end, bonded with his employer as a result of his casual surfing.

I told you earlier that I use Google Analytics, right? Well, Analytics tracks all sorts of things. Normally, nothing is that exciting or worth repeating but I did want to mention a couple of things.

First, someone from Asse, has been reading my letters to you. I can't believe that there is such a city and I think that I'd kill myself if I were from Asse. The jokes write themselves. On second thought, maybe it would be a gold mine to live there.

Second, someone actually typed this into the search box: nair+get+into+my+vagina+what+do+i+do?

I love it. I love to think that someone's painful vagina is the reason that they read my letter to you. That makes it a little dirty and at the same time, a little sexy.

People have also searched for crystal meth and deoderant so I must tell you that I am pleased. Such arbitrary words for such an arbitrary undertaking.

Martyn is awesome. Upper Norwood rocks!

Thanks, Martyn. Keep reading even though I only write to Larry once every two weeks.

Paul

The Sisterhood of the Calling Purse

2006-04-06T13:30:00.000-05:00

Larry,

How's it going, old timer? I am well, if you were wondering. Honestly, I'm ready for this week to be over. It's been a long and tedious one and I feel as though I could use a vacation. Which is a little absurd considering I had a vacation of sorts back in Janurary. At any rate, I am tired of being at work and that may indicate that I am ready for a change, career-wise. You wouldn't, by any chance, need a grip or best boy for your show, would you? I think that I could do either of those jobs, although I'm not sure what either entails. However, I am confident in my abilities and have been told that I am the best by many people. The best at what, I am not sure.

I had a point. Anna's purse often calls me during the day. Anna will leave the keypad of her phone unlocked, throw it in the purse, and forget about it. I, though, am constantly reminded for I will, from time to time, receive calls that upon answering, realize very quickly that there is no caller, save Anna's purse du jour.

I once got a call from the purse as Anna was walking furiously from one terminal to the next in an effort to make her connecting flight. Sometimes, I just listen because I'm bored. And in part, because I think that she'll figure it out somehow and pick up the phone. She never does. But I remember that call well. Clop, clop, clop, clop. This for 10 minutes-the pace building to a crescendo; a symphony of airport terminal ambient noise accompanied by the hurried steps of Anna's high-heeled feet. A beautiful piece, believe me. But that wasn't the point.

Today's call came to me from Anna's purse as she was at lunch with her work friends. The topic of conversation: abortions. An icky subject for any man, I think. But I did get to hear about one woman's niece's or daughter's (I believe that there were 4 in all) abortions. That is, she had 4 family members that had had abortions. I'm just glad that it wasn't me at lunch with that crew because I would have been tres uncomfortable. Good thing that women have other women to discuss such matters. I suppose that one could say it's a blessing. Saves us from conversations like those.

Purse, stop calling me at work!

Have a good one,

Paul

Writer's Block

2006-04-01T18:42:00.000-06:00

Larry,

I can't write. I have lots of stuff that I want to tell you about but the words just won't come.

Sorry.

Maybe tomorrow.

Here's what you have to look forward to if I can overcome this momentary inability to engage in intelligent and inconsequential colloquy:

My new iPod
My new pen pal, Martyn
My acceptance into the Stanford E-Learning Program, although that's not officially official

I think that's it.

I hope that you are well.

Paul

Conspiracy Theory

2006-03-25T11:56:00.000-06:00

Larry,

What is up, my friend? Not much here. My mom ruined my day today. You know that I had hepatitis, right? Well, officially, the doctors all said that it was hepatic toxicity. A subtle distinction, or maybe, not depending on who you ask. I think, given the manner in which one contracts hepatitis, that the difference is a big deal. I mean, it's the difference between eating poop or mixing acetaminophen and alcohol. I'd like to think that I didn't eat poop. Technically, there are 3 main types of Hepatitis. A, B, and C are all viral. One involves sex, one is contracted from eating the poop, and one you can get from blood transfusions or dirty instruments. In short, my mom said that she talked to some nurses and they all agree that I contracted Hepatitis B from my shoulder surgery and now the doctors at St. Francis are covering their respective asses by telling me that it was hepatic toxicity. So, it would seem that I am the subject of a great medical cover-up. This must be my 15 minutes but watch as I milk it for all that it's worth.

I'm going to do some digging; get an independent blood test from some impartial street doctor. Do those kinds of doctors exist? They do on TV so it must be true. I should probably go ahead and call 20/20. But I don't need people digging into my past. Who knows what they will find.

Anyway, my mom broke the news to me this morning. It's really cast a pall over this otherwise beautifully crisp Spring day.

To be continued...

Paul

Cyclone Larry

2006-03-22T12:57:00.000-06:00

LD,

It's unfortunate that you will forever be associated with death and destruction in and around the continent that is Australia. I'm sorry for you. Really. But I don't suppose that many Americans much care about what happens in Australia. That's always been my position. What happens in Australia...well, that's their business.

I just wanted to send you a little note to let you know what's been happening in my world since last week. Here are some highlights:

I was in the locker-room today getting ready to go work out and I overheard the most ill-timed conversation ever amongst men in a locker room. I stood on the scale weighing in as these two guys, standing there buck naked and toweling off, are talking about, of all things, sausages. I mean, polish sausages, kielbasa, hot dogs (I know that's probably not considered sausage), but still. You get why it's amusing. I thought, this really is a sausage party and quickly got the hell out of there.

I'm using what might be women's deodorant. I can't really tell. It smells like flowers so I assume that it's for women. The thing is, I think that I'm allergic to the strong stuff. I can use regular, run of the mill, deodorant for about a month and then all of a sudden, all hell breaks loose in the armpit region. It's as if someone lit tiny brushfires down there. It gets all red and irritated and if I put on anything, it just makes it burn and itch. Last week I used some of Anna's lavender-scented baby powder. This week, it's some weird Herbal deodorant that says nothing on it about the gender for whom it is made. I'll take it though. It makes me feel better. I don't know if it actually works and really, I'm sure that I even know what deodorant does, if anything. Nor do I know the difference between an anti persperant and deodorant. I think that it's an industry built on a scam, like dry cleaning. That doesn't work.

30 minutes left in the workday and then I am headed home. God, I love the end of the day.

More soon,

Paul

LA Clippers

2006-03-13T11:39:00.000-06:00

Larry,

Remember how I said that I'd have more exciting stuff to talk about the last time? I lied.

This weekend was pretty chill, as far as weekends go. Anna was worn out from her trip to Florida last week so she was asleep by nine on Friday and Saturday. I, left to my own devices, stayed out of trouble. Surprise.

We did have lunch at the White Church. It would appear that this is where we're having the rehersal dinner. I have told Anna repeatedly that I don't want to give a speech. I just can't do it. I get stage fright like you wouldn't believe. My neck gets stiff, my mouth dries up, and start to take on the attributes of a robot. It's not so pretty. So, in the event that I am forced, I plan to thank everyone for coming, and then, at some point duriung my ramblings, blurt out "I can't do this" and then disappear into the recesses of the old church. Should be funny. You should come.

You're invited, by the way. Anna wanted me to tell you. Since you're a big Hollywood moviestar, I told her that you're schedule wouldn't allow it. She wanted me to pass the information along, regardless.

On a lighter note, I went to my mom's house this weekend to help her set up her new TiVo. I love TiVo, by the way. It's the best invention since...well, frankly I know of no other invention that comes close to the TiVo. So, for me, it's the best invention EVER. But I digress. I was at my mom's house, setting up the TiVo. I was almost done and my mom had to leave. She had to go pick her dog Pax up from the groomers. Since my mom drove us both from the White Church, I was left there alone. I watched a little Blow but then found myself outside playing the Pied Piper to a bunch of ducks. That's all irrelevant. I snooped around her apartment a little bit while she was gone and discovered that she had in her tiny apartment, 6 nail clippers. SIX. Isn't that too many? There were two in her bedroom, two on the bar that separates the kitchen from the living room, and then 2 on a coffee table in the living room. I could understand 2, maybe. One for the bedroom and one for the other room. That way, if you're lazy like me and you feel the urge to cut your grossly long toenails, you can do it whether you're in the bedroom or the living room. But to have six makes me think that my mom's got some kind of weird toenail problem or fetish. I can't decide which. To be honest, I'd rather not think about the possibility of my mother having any kind of fetish.

You know what? I've got to stop there.

Hope that all is well in Hollywood.

Paul

Heil, Me

2006-03-07T12:14:00.000-06:00

Larry,

What's up, buddy? I know that it's been a while since I've written. Sorry about that. I haven't really been busy or anything. I'm just really, really boring. It's no excuse and yet, it's the only excuse that I've got.

This weekend was boring. Anna was having her special girl time and didn't want to do much of anything all weekend except lay around and watch shows that were invented to drive men crazy. There was lots of E! and various garden shows and home make-over shows. At one point, I threatened suicide if she didn't stop. She didn't. Obviously, I chickened out.

I got a shower Saturday afternoon. Not that a shower in and of itself is a big deal, but I shaved while I was in the shower. Gave myself a little Hitler mustache. Not that I'm a fan. Just thought that it'd be funny to see Anna's reaction. She didn't notice. There wasn't much hair up there anyway and when I got out of the shower, I came out to the living room where she was and stood around for a bit, chuckling to myself. She didn't have her glasses on so she didn't realize that there was a Furher in the room. Alas, my joke backfired. That pretty much sums up the weekend.

It's a shame though, about the Hitler mustache. I mean, from now until the foreseeable future, that mustache style will be forever frowned upon, never accepted as a viable facial hair alternative. I think that it's kind of cool. I mean, there's little upkeep once you get it shaped correctly. It's rather inconspicuous-at least, it would be if stupid Hitler hadn't made it infamous. I think the soul patch (another facial hair style) is completely derivative of the Hitler. I mean, someone probably saw the picture of Hitler and said, "You know, that's not a bad looking mustache. But I can't wear it over the lip. What if I take the same style and move it downstairs...below the lip." And like that, the soul patch was born. Born in infamy. No labels on it though. You'd think that someone would have realized by now that the soul patch is just the Hitler mustache's cousin, once removed.

I'll just stick with the no facial hair look, at least for the time being.

Hitler sucks! In fact, this is what happens when people think that the world is ready for the Hitler mustache.

Take care,

I'll have more soon. More of this, you ask? Better stuff than this, I assure you.

Paul

Odds and Ends

2006-02-27T10:39:00.000-06:00

Larry,

Just wanted to drop you a line and share with you a couple of things of note. You might not find it interesting and if you don't, that's ok. I don't really care. Yeah, I said it.

Anna and I have decided what our first baby shall be named, if it is a boy. Are you ready? Ivan. That is a kick-ass name. For a boy or a girl, I think.

We have both decided (I think) to get new cars. Honda's got a new car out called the Fit. It drops around the Ides of March so we've got to wait a bit but I am very excited. It gets 56 miles to the gallon and retails for around $12,000. That is one sweet deal. I read somewhere that the hybridized version gets 84 mpg but they only sell that car in Japan. Dang the Japanese. They get all the cool shit. Not fair.

My buddy Jay told me a story that was hilarious. Unfortunately, I'm sworn to secrecy. Don't you hate that?! Why bother saying it if you can't tell, right? I love doing that to people. I'm making up for all the times that someone's done it to me.

I have discovered (and I use that term loosely) the best show ever. Wonder Showzen . Comes on MTV2. Honestly, I'm surprised that they air anything worth watching. I would have guessed that they would have followed in MTV's footsteps and shunned anything watchable long ago. I was dead wrong.

I'm not sure if you know anyone in law enforcement but if you do, could you do me a favor? Could you run some plates for me. I'm looking for the driver of a truck and his license plate number is TN GDD 644. I need to have a conversation with that guy and you're rich. Pull some strings for me. I'll be your BFF.

Talk to you soon,

Paul

All Things Poop

2006-02-26T10:34:00.000-06:00

Larry,

How's it going brother? All's well here in Memphis. Spring is beginning to perk up after a long winter buried underground. But I'm not writing to talk to you about Spring. I wanted to say some things about poop that I've been keeping to myself for a while. My buddy Joey has a theory about poop. It's complicated and I don't want to go into details but, in a nutshell, he believes that if more people were comfortable talking about poop, the world would be a better place. I don't know if he has scientific data to back it up, but he's a sharp guy and I think that there's something to his theory. So, to that end...

He (or maybe it was Cara) said that he/she overheard a conversation on the streets of New York. A woman was on the phone and apparently, the person with whom she was speaking had to go to the bathroom-badly. In closing, she said "Alright, go shit, shitty". Frank talk about poop. Joe's theory, in action.

I talk about poop a lot. Maybe too much. However, I don't like to be graphic about it, so I have created a euphemism for the process that I believe softens the blow when I discuss it with strangers or coworkers. I refer to it as "seeing the doctor". I have taken the euphemism one step further and created a persona for my doctor. I call him Dr. Tu. He's an Indian fellow, maybe from Pakistan. I don't know because normally we don't discuss world affairs. Usually, when I see him, he's all business. So, in the future, when I refer to the doctor, it's probably Dr. Tu to whom I am referring.

I know that your kids are too old to appreciate this, but I saw a website the other day that made me believe that Joe's theory has spread to France...or at least to Canada. It's this site, aimed at children, that let's them pick out certain types of food, stick that food into a machine that's supposed to be your digestive system, and see what kind of poop that combination of food produces. If you should happen to visit, choose all McDonalds. That is one bad poop.

I pooped on Starbucks. Really, it was an accident. Ok, this is going to be confusing. I can't remember if this happened before or after my shoulder surgery, but not too long ago, I had to go see a real doctor (not Dr. Tu) about something shoulder-related. During the exam, I got a page from Dr. Tu-he wanted to let me know that he needed to see me right away about some tests that he'd done. I thought that I'd wait until I got home to see him-he does make house calls. Unfortunately, after I left the (real) doctor's office, I realized that I would not make it home. This was an emergency situation so I stopped at Starbucks. Thought that I would kill two birds with one stone. I walked in and quickly made my was to the restroom. I'll spare you the details but what took place in there was disturbing. It was as though I had been to Mexico and unknowingly drank lots and lots of water. So, I'll just say this-there was some leakage. After I was done. On the floor. Disgusting, I know. I can't go back there again. I can't-I won't.

That's it, I think. I was out walking Xander this morning and there was a couple out on the park bench talking to one another. As I approached, they started to make those sounds that indicated that they wanted to interact with the dog. I didn't want to stop so I just yelled, "Xander, make some poopy"! They laughed and I was able to make my escape. He did, shortly thereafter. Green poop. Awesome!

That's really it.

Take care and cherish the poop.

Paul

Me v. Citibank, episode 3 (Phantom Menace)

2006-02-12T09:11:00.000-06:00

Larry,

And the winner is...

You wrote:
Please send me a refund check for the credit balance of $59.80.

Re: Account - Credit Balance Refund 02/01/06 09:24:45 AM 3 of 3
Customer Service Wrote:
Your credit balance refund has been processed, and you should receive a check within 2 weeks. For your protection, all refund checks are sent to the primary cardholder at the address on file.
Thank you for using our website.

RE: Account - Credit Balance Refund 02/01/06 09:48:37 AM 3 of 3
You wrote:
Hey Citibank. Sorry that I had to throw down the proverbial gauntlet and transfer my balance. Sincerely, I love you guys. I'll make sure that my next major purchase is made with my Citibank Visa card. I don't want to lose you guys as a business partner. And, if I may say so, as a friend, You guys rock. I mean that. Paul

Me v. Citibank Visa, episode 2

2006-02-11T13:42:00.000-06:00

Larry,

The battle for $60.00 and my pride continues...

Dear Citibank, When I agreed to transfer my balance to the Citibank visa card, I did so because I was offered a no interest option until January of 2006. Yet, when I received my account summary, I couldn't help but notice that I did incur some finance charges. Will you please explain or simply deduct them from my outstanding balance? Thanks a ton. You guys are great! Keep up the excellent work.
Sincerely, Paul Little

Re: Finance Charges 10/03/05 03:09:45 AM 2 of 2
Customer Service Wrote:
Our records indicate that the account is currently in default status, based on your payment history.
Your Card Agreement states in part, that your Annual Percentage Rate (APR) may be increased if you fail to meet the terms of the Card Agreement because you fail to make a payment to us or any other creditor when due.
Your account may be eligible for a lower rate after you have met the terms of all Card Agreements for six consecutive months. Your existing balances will remain subject to the higher rate until they are paid in full.
If you feel that this is in error, please contact us.
You can also contact our Customer Care Center at 1-800-950-5114. Outside the U.S., please call collect at 605-335-2222.
Thank you for using our website.

RE: Finance Charges 11/01/05 04:43:43 PM 2 of 2
You wrote:
Hello Citibank, In regards to the message above, I just wanted to say this: I felt that I left myself plenty of time to pay the amount due by the due date. However, I underestimated the amount of time that it would take to authorize my online status. I thought for sure that 3-5 days was more than enough time to arrange for this. I was wrong. It took 8-10 before I was able to pay online. If I had known that it would take this long, I would have adjusted my schedule accordingly. I think that in lieu of paying a higher interest rate and late fees that I don't feel I deserve, I will simply transfer my balance elsewhere. You guys removed the late payment fee so I assumed that you would still allow the no interest terms. I guess that we know what assuming does. Still, no hard feelings, ok? I like you guys. I'm sure that we'll do business again in the near future.
Paul Little

RE: Finance Charges 11/01/05 05:05:06 PM 2 of 2
Customer Service Wrote:
We will submit a request to review your account for a rate adjustment. If approved, your account will be restored to the standard APR on all of the active balances, including:
-Balance Transfer Rates
-Rate Sale Offers
-Intro Rates
-APR Buy-Downs
If the higher rate was due to a bank error, any necessary finance charges and fees will be credited to the account and reflected on a future statement. Related accounts will be updated as well.
Thank you for using our website.

RE: Finance Charges 11/01/05 05:27:16 PM 2 of 2
You wrote:
Dear Customer Service, Ok. I agree to your terms. I will hold off a day or two while you review my account. I'm sorry that I snapped earlier. I'm having a fat day. You know how it is. You wake up and you feel bloated. Too much candy! Oh well. I'll be hitting the gym tomorrow. Take it easy.
Paul

RE: Finance Charges 11/01/05 05:57:11 PM 2 of 2
Customer Service Wrote:
We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you.
Our records indicate the Annual Percentage Rate (APR) for purchases on this account is currently at 17.74%. This variable APR is based on the prime rate (currently 6.75%) plus 10.99%.
Our records indicate the balance transfer APR on this account is currently at 0%. As long as you do not default under any card Agreement, this offer will be valid until 01/01/06.
Thank you for using our website.

RE: Finance Charges 12/03/05 11:58:09 AM 2 of 2
You wrote:
Play it your way Citibank. I'm going to move my money from out of this account and cancel all of my Citibank cards. I didn't want to take this course of action but you leave me no choice, now do you? Shame on you, Citibank. It's the holidays for goodness' sake. Have you no decency?
Paul

RE: Finance Charges 12/03/05 12:25:30 PM 2 of 2
Customer Service Wrote:
Our records indicate the Annual Percentage Rate (APR) for purchases and balance transfer on this account has been lowered. The APR for purchases is currently at 17.99%. This variable APR is based on the prime rate (currently 7.00%) plus 10.99%. Your APR for balance transfer is at 0.00%.
If you have further questions, please call the number on the back of your card, and we will be happy to assist you. Thank you for using our website.

RE: Finance Charges 12/08/05 10:14:03 PM 2 of 2
You wrote:
Sorry Citibank but it's just not good enough. You want to play hardball? You got it. I told you that I was serious about transferring the balance. Well, I don't mess around. You said that I'd have 0% APR until January. However, I've incurred finance charges for the past 3 months; all because I wanted to pay online and it took you a week to give me online access. Not a very nice trick. I'll be transferring my balance within the hour. Discover will be so pleased. I want to say "Eat it" but I'm going to take the high road. Best of luck, Citibank. I hope that we meet again someday.
Paul

RE: Finance Charges 12/08/05 10:31:02 PM 2 of 2
Customer Service Wrote:
Finance charges for purchases, balance transfers and cash advances will begin to accrue from the date the transaction is added to your balance. They will continue to accrue until payment in full is credited to your account.
This means that when you make your final payment on these balances, you will pay interest for the time between the date your last statement prints and the date your payment is credited to your account.
Thank you for using our website.

RE: Finance Charges 12/08/05 11:09:31 PM 2 of 2
You wrote:
Citibank, That doesn't even make sense. You told me that I would have 0% APR on balance transfers until January. It's a moot point now anyway because I am transferring my transferred balance to another credit card company. So, in essence, there will be no more finance charges from you. See you around.
Paul
ps. Merry freaking Christmas!

RE: Finance Charges 12/08/05 11:57:53 PM 2 of 2
Customer Service Wrote:
We apologize for any inconvenience caused to you.
We have credited your account $59.80 for the finance charge assessed. This credit should appear on your account within two business days.
Thank you for using our website.

Me v. Citibank, episode 1

2006-02-11T10:42:00.000-06:00

Larry,

What's up, doggy? I know that I've been inundating you with letters lately. I'm sorry but I think that you'll enjoy this exchange that I had with Citibank a while back regarding my credit card and our little game of chicken. I don't think that you need too much background but to get you caught up, here's what happened. I transferred a balance to my Citibank Visa card because they offered 0% interest for 6 months. I love no interest. So, I transferred the balance. However, I wanted to pay online so I signed up for online billing. I thought that it would take 3-5 days but it took much longer. Subsequently, I made a payment late. They proceeded to yank the no-interest terms. This is what happened (via email):

Late Payment 08/09/05 11:37:31 PM 1 of 1
You wrote:
Hello, do you think that you might forgive the late payment fee for me this one time? I have recently moved and am not receiving my mail in a timely manner. Also, the post office has given me some bad information concerning my zip code. In addition, I have been trying to pay my bill online since the 3rd and I am still unable to do so. It would mean a lot to me. What do you say? You're the best!
Paul Little

Re: Late Payment 08/09/05 11:50:34 PM 1 of 1
Customer Service Wrote:
As a goodwill gesture, we have credited your account $39.00 for the late fee assessed. This credit should appear on your account within two business days. We must receive your payments by the due date in order to avoid late fees in the future.
Please reply to this message with your new address and/or phone number, and we will be happy to update your account with the new information.
We investigated your inquiry and our records indicate that statements were mailed to you each month. We cannot determine a reason for the delay. If this continues, please contact your local post office to resolve this problem.
Thank you for using our website.

RE: Late Payment 08/10/05 12:33:52 AM 1 of 1
You wrote:
Thank you, Citibank. As soon as I can pay online, I will do so. And it will be so much more than the minimum payment. I think that you will be very proud of me. I will not soon forget your generosity. I will update my profile as per your instructions. Thanks again, Paul Little

Customer Service Wrote:
Thank you for using our website.

The Importance of Being Jewish

2006-02-10T19:07:00.000-06:00

Larry,

Howdy fella. I wanted to tell you this a while back but with the holidays and hepatitis and surgery, I never got around to it. I wish that I were Jewish. You know why? Because Christmas sucks. You know what sucks even worse than that? Christmas parties. Something bad happened to me at our office party this year and it felt like something that might happen to you...in the event that you weren't Jewish.

I attended my office Christmas party, mostly because there were prizes to be given away and of course, there was free food. I was reluctant but I went also because some of my work friends were going to be there and frankly, it was a better option than being stuck in the office. So, we ate and talked and soon after everyone had finished their meals, the games begun.

Every year we play the White Elephant game. It's the one where everyone brings a present and then people draw numbers to determine the order and then one person opens a present and the next person either gets to take that present or open another present. It goes on forever. This year, Brenda brought her little boy, AJ. About half-way through the game, AJ gets bored and decides that he's going to pass the time by helping people open up there presents. I drew a number somewhere near the end so when it was my turn, I went to the front of the room, quickly picked an unopened present and proceeded to open it. AJ, hovering near the present-staging area, immediately grabbed for my gift. I, channeling Adam Sandler as I often do, screamed (loudly), "Let me do it!" Big Mistake. He took off, ran for the protection of his mother, and cried like he had just been beaten with a bamboo cane. This went on for what seemed like 6 minutes. My fellow party-goers were furious, shocked, and appalled by my behavior. They scolded me and then demanded that I apologize to the little drama queen. I, of course, refused. This kid was like 5 so I knew that were I to apologize, he wouldn't really understand why I had done it or that I meant him no harm. Not to mention, I wasn't really sorry at all. This was just my attempt at taking the spotlight back from the little spotlight hog. My plan backfired. The worst thing about it was that, as the crying began to die down, he loudly scoffed "Stupid head" or some other such nonsense.

Crybaby. See where that gets you in life.

On a lighter note, that was only the first of two children that I made cry that day. Two-for-one. I rock!

So, I envy your Jewishness. If it weren't so difficult, I'd probably convert. But you guys probably wouldn't want me anyway.

Hope that you are enjoying this mild winter. There's snow on the ground in Memphis for the first time in ages. Actually, it's probably only been a year.

Talk to you soon,

Paul

Dog Pee, Meet Ass-Crack

2006-02-10T12:19:00.000-06:00

Larry,

What's up brother? I haven't written in a while so I wanted to drop you a line and tell you hello, see how you were doing, etc. Me, I'm doing much better. I did experience a hepatitis scare a couple of weeks back but it turns out that I don't have viral hepatitis after all. Just a little liver damage from too much drinky drink. I should be fine in a month or two.

Last night, Anna had gotten into bed around 10:45. I usually get in after her because I have to brush, wash my hands, floss, gargle with mouthwash, snort some saline spray into my nostrils, apply moisturizer to my hands, and get a glass of water for the bedside table. Usually, I need an extra 15 minutes. Usually, she's asleep before I even make it to the bed. Last night was no different and as I climbed into bed she was quickly drifting off into Sleepyland. Xander, on the other hand was acting a little nutso. This is not unusual. Normally, I take him out to pee and poo right before bed. For whatever reason, this process reinvigorates him and briefly, he gets this shot of adrenaline and typically runs around barking like a dog on crystal meth. So, I jumped into bed and grabbed my book (Stephen King's new novel which is excellent by the way) and settled in for some lighting reading before I called it a night. As a slid under the warm and inviting sheets, Xander almost immediately dived under with me. Sometimes, he likes to hunker down under the covers and snuggle up close to my near-naked body. But this time, he just kept going, making his way in between my outstretched legs. I was nervous because he was scratching and biting and I was afraid that he was going to get hold of something that I consider pretty valuable. I was lucky in that respect. He didn't make a run for my cherries. He just peed right there between my legs, soaking the bed, my underwear and (gulp), my anus. I had no choice but to run, not walk, to the bathroom and shower. Anna wasn't happy or all that helpful with the cleanup. But she did ok for someone that was on the verge of REM sleep. I'm glad that she was there to help out.

All is well. I've been tainted. On the taint, ironically.

I hope that you are well and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Paul

Smell My Finger

2006-01-13T00:42:00.000-06:00

Larry,

What up, player? This won't be long. Just wanted to tell you about a milestone that I reached the other day. You know that I had the surgery last week, right? Well, I've been pretty sore since. I think that I might have an infection. Not sure. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow to find out for sure. Anyway, since the surgery, I haven't been able to move around very well. This has been a hindrance for going to "see the doctor". In addition, it's prevented me from showering regularly. I think that it was Monday that I was finally able to take a bath. Anna said that she'd help but then fell asleep far too early. This left me to go it alone. Mission accomplished. However, since I'd established that I was in too much pain to do it regularly, I decided to wait until yesterday to get in the tub again. Jonathan came over in the middle of the day. But by then, I was as ripe as a banana. In fact, I can remember on several occasions, while he was here, smelling myself uncontrollably. Don't get me wrong; it stank. But there's something about that smell. It's one of those smells that you can't help but smell. It was repulsive. And yet, I could not stop the constant whiffing. I really wanted Anna to smell it, simply because it was so bad. So I held off on the shower. I wanted to at least wait until she got home so that she could get a taste of this bad medicine. So, Jonathan left and she got home. I confessed to her that I was in dire need of a bath. She was tired after a long day's work. She was weak. I slid my finger into my pit-not finger to shirt but finger to actual armpit. Then I begged of her..."Please, smell this-one time". She partook. She did smell of the finger and I'll be honest, because I'm somewhat proud, she gagged. Not once, but four times. The scent did activate her gag reflex.

I shouldn't be proud of this, I know. But still. It's kinda cool. I almost made her throw up with my body odor. Makes you wonder about these French people. I mean, I hear that natural body odor is an aphrodisiac. If that were the case, I'd be getting laid all the time. And I wouldn't even need the internet.

I was stinky.

I got a shower tonight. I'm flying solo right now and there's nothing on the horizon. All is as it should be.

Take care,

Paul

Mother's Milk

2006-01-12T04:00:00.000-06:00

Dear Larry,

Angela, from my work, had a baby recently. Four months ago, I think. A boy. She named him BJ. I told her about the pitfalls of a baby named BJ but she didn't listen. That's beside the point. She came back to work, reluctantly. However, she wanted to breast-feed so employed the pump when she was away from BJ. This, I applaud. It's just so sad that she had to be exiled to some solitary storage closet to do God's work for it is close-minded people that cannot see the beauty of breast-feeding. I don't want to get off on a rant, so I'll just stop there.

So, I get to work one Monday and realize that I have foolishly left my coffee creamer at home. If I don't have creamer then I don't have coffee and if I don't have coffee, then I am one cranky camper. I go visit Sabrina, who is good friends with Angela, and I ask her, do you think that we can steal some of Angela's cream. She keeps it refrigerated, don't you know, because it is milk. Sabrina thinks that it's possible and I keep watch while Sabrina checks the fridge to see if the package is available. Sadly, it was not. Not sure if it was a slow day, milkwise or if Angela simply chose not to milk it that day. At any rate, there was no milk to be had. I was coffeeless. A sad day, by any account.

I was excited at the prospect of having some breastmilk in my coffee for a couple of reasons:

#1. It would have been hot.

and

#2. I would have digested her DNA. I don't know why that excites me but it does. I'm not a Biology major but I think that me drinking her breast milk would have been tantamount to Jeff Goldblum and that fly being teleported to that other pod. I sort of think that after drinking that cup of coffee, I would have taken on some of Angela's qualities. In retrospect, she is a girl and to be honest, I would have hated to walk away with a vagina. So, maybe it all worked out for the best.

Still, it would have been hot.

Glad that I got that off my chest. I said "chest". Brilliant.

Take care,

Paul

Nair do Well

2006-01-12T02:45:00.000-06:00

Dear Larry,

I had surgery last Friday. Maybe I didn't tell you about it but it's been a while since I've written so I doubt that I did. As it turns out, I had some arthritis in my AC joint. Don't worry, it's not the kind of arthritis that you'd get what with you being old. The doctor said that it was on account of some kind of trauma that occurred. I'd like to think that it was a result of me pretending that I'm a pitcher and throwing fast balls to some cocky first baseman. Anna seems to think that I've fallen out of my chair one too many times. At any rate, there was some trauma. So I had an operation to cut out the arthritis. I'm not sure what really happened. I just know that it hurt. It still hurts, in fact. But that's not the point. You know that I'm a pretty hairy guy, right? Well, I was a little apprehensive about the operation. My mom has told me stories about surgeons amputating the wrong arm or leg. I was fearful, I'll admit. So, the night before the surgery, I had Anna Nair an arrow on my back, pointing to the right (i.e. correct) shoulder. Just to make sure that the doctor cut on the right one. It worked. My right arm hurts like a sonofabitch.

I have more stories. Soon, my friend, soon.

Be well,

Paul

My brother, the pimp

2005-12-20T15:45:00.000-06:00

Dear Larry,

It's been a while. How have you been? Me? Oh, I've been doing ok. I'm not a huge fan of the Christmas time to be honest. More on that later. My brother told me a secret and he swore me to secrecy but I cannot keep a secret. I must tell someone. So, when I confess to him that I told Larry David, he won't be upset. Frankly, he might not even recognize your name. Nevertheless, he shouldn't be too bothered.

Anyway, he confided in me that he had begun a sexual relationship with a woman named Joyce. Not because he cares for her as much as she has a car that she lets him borrow frequently. In fact, I think that Joyce is (or at this point, was) quite smitten with him. If you knew him, you'd find this pretty amazing. He's a swell fellow but not much for the settling down. This wasn't the secret, though. The secret was that he had also taken up with her daughter, who's name eludes me at the moment. She's a bit on the young side. Anyway, he carried on with the two of them for a little while without them knowing about his relationship with the other. Pretty cool. That's like one of those goals that, as men, we hope to one day attain, but never really believe that it will ever happen. For instance, the menage et trois is another such goal. That one ranks a little higher than the other but I think that you get my point. Anyway, he can scratch one off of the list.

I'm so very proud.

Hope all is well.

Happy Chanukah!

ps. Don't tell anyone.

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Pizza Hut is Racist

2005-12-01T13:16:00.000-06:00

Technorati Tags : pizza, hut, racist

Dear Larry,

What's happening old man? It's been too long. I wanted to write when I found out that you were going to have that special on TBS then I didn't watch it and felt guilty. I do care about the environment though. I do my part. Recycling is on my to-do list. And I want to look into getting solar panels for the house. This endeavor could potentially be a lot of work so I'm going to stick with the recycling project for the time being. Not to mention, your show conflicted with Desperate Housewives and I don't pass up any chance to see Nicolette Sheridan wearing next-to-nothing. For an old lady, she's hot. But I digress.

Anna and I were at home one Friday night a couple of weeks ago. We decided not to go out but instead to treat ourselves to some greasy Pizza Slut pizza. We grudgingly made this choice because neither of us wanted to get out and it seemed that Pizza Hut was our only option if we wanted delivery. We called the 362-3333 number to place our order and the operator had trouble finding our address in their system. Anna explained that it was a new development so it might not yet be in the database. They took the order anyway and told us that if they had any problems, that they would place a follow-up call to confirm the address. Five minutes later, Pizza Hut called back to tell us that they did not deliver to our area. I asked them why, naturally. I had previously checked their website to make sure that there was a store close by and found that, in fact, there was one less than two miles away. In truth, the reason that they don't deliver to our area is that our development sits on the razed remains of a development affectionately known as Hurt Village. Considered one of the most dangerous parts of the city, delivery places flat-out refused to make deliveries there lest their delivery drivers be executed, gangsta-style. I understood why they didn't deliver there in the past. However, the place has been cleaned up, new houses erected, and middle-class America has been invited to move in and set up shop. Long story short, Pizza Hut lady said that we were out of the zone. I told her that it was racist not to deliver to our neighborhood because I knew that it wasn't because we were too far away, but because they considered our neighborhood dangerous. She hung up.

No one is immune.

Talk to you later,

Paul

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Stephen Lewis, revisited

2005-10-17T16:48:00.000-05:00

Larry,

Old chum. Please do not give me crap about how long it's been. I know. I've been in a funk. What kind of funk, you ask? I'm not sure. If I could properly pinpoint the source of the funk, then I would know precisely how to get out of said funk. Having said that, I'm at an impasse...and rambling apparently. I did have some things to tell you about, the first of which will require some backstory regarding my high schools days at White Station HS.

I believe that it was my senior year, which would have been 1993 if memory serves. Stephen B. Lewis and I had 6 classes together that year so we were pretty much inseparable. We devised games to play to keep us amused and entertained throughout the day. One such game was called (I believe) the T-Shirt game. The rules of the game were simple; you see someone walking down the hall wearing a T-Shirt and without making eye contact, you semi-shout whatever it is on their T-Shirt. For example, if we'd happen to see an underclassman walking down the hall wearing a Hard Rock t-shirt, we'd say, just slightly above the din, "Hard Rock, New Orleans". We wouldn't stop to converse, we wouldn't look at them. We'd just keep walking to our class, enjoying the havoc that we had just wreacked. In one instant, we'd made someone self-conscious. Often, the kids would look around, befuddled and searching for answers. Stephen and I though, we had no answers. Only smirks and chortles for those that chose to wear t-shirts without giving some thought to the consequences of their actions.

Another game that we liked to play...I'm not sure if we had a name for this one. But it involved, writing dirty words down, then writing them backwards, and then shouting out the word in reverse. In class. It was hilarious. Let me give you an example. A teacher would leave class momentarily to take a bathroom break or catch a smoke in the lounge and Stephen or myself would commence to playing the Saying Things Backwards Really Loudly Game. So, we'd say things like "Sinep" or "Mutorcs". That's entertainment. We were 18. Looking back, it's more than a little sad.

Anyway, this is the point of the story: I owed a buddy (let's call him Sequoia for the sake of anonymity) some money for our fantasy football league and because I don't see him all that often, I had to mail him the check. In the bottom left-hand corner where there's a spot for a memo, I wrote LLAB CAS. That's ball sac if you aren't the skilled reverse-reader that I am. Good stuff.

Talk to you soon,

Paul

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Memphis Drivers

2005-10-03T18:35:00.000-05:00

Larry, old boy. How was your weekend. Mine? Nice, thanks. Had some great Thai food and did some much needed yard work. But I did forget to mention the incident that happened on the way home from the Doctor's office on Friday. I was driving home, going my usual route down one of the Parkways, when out of the blue this car on my left starts to drift in my lane. I honked my horn because when people drive like shit, I want them to be aware of it. How else are they to know that they drive like shit if good samaritans like me, don't tell them. So, quickly the car moved back into it's lane and I was momentarily relieved. That is, until the car started slowing down. Was I afraid? No. Not at all. It was a big green jalopy and I knew by the make and model of the car, coupled with the speed at which this car was moving, I was dealing with an old person. Older than you, my friend. No offense. So, she's (it turns out that the driver was a woman) slowing down and we are quickly approaching a red light. She rolls her window down and I can tell that she's trying to tell me something so I oblige by rolling down my window as well. She asks me, somewhat annoyed, what's the problem. And here's where it gets frustrating because I have the opportunity to rip into her like Conan the Barbarian, fresh from the sword sharpening shop. And I say to her, "Yes, the problem is your driving". She quickly retorts, "What's the problem with my driving?" I've got her right where I want her. So I say, "Your driving is a big piece of crap!" That's the best I can do. So often, we are confronted with situations in which we are speechless. If we could only take a moment or two to really collect our thoughts, we'd possibly have something poignant or witty or acerbic to say. But most of the time, we are idiots. Dumbfounded or mute or unintelligible. At least I am. Funny side note-she apologized for her poor driving and went about her merry way. Kind of takes the fun out of it.

I have more but I'll tell you later. Nothing too exciting, I promise.

Talk to you soon,

Paul

Habla Pepsi

2005-10-01T11:25:00.000-05:00

Larry,

What's up dog? How have you been? I've been better, to be totally honest. I've had some pain in my shoulder for the last three or four months. So, last week, I decided that it was high-time to get my butt on over to my doctor so that he could X-ray me and find out the cause of the problem. He did the X-ray and much to my surprise, he didn't find anything. He gave me a little Celebrex for the inflammation and sent me on my merry way. On the way down to the lobby, I felt very parched and as I rounded the corner on my way out the door, I noticed a Mexican family (or maybe they were Hispanic-Americans) standing in front of the Pepsi machine. I sauntered up to them very quietly and said to the father, "Daddy, can I have a Pepsi?" They looked at me a little bewildered and I can't say that I blame them. The looks on their faces was a mixture of confusion and more confusion. I thought that maybe they didn't understand why I wanted the Pepsi in the first place. I said "I'm just very parched and I don't have any money". This seemed to placate them and the dad bought me a Pepsi. A mucho nice-o gesture, I would say. Afterwards, we all kind of walked out together (they were leaving too) and I would have to say that the journey from the Pepsi machine to the front door of the building was a bit awkward. I did love that Pepsi though.

Anyway, just goes to show that there are still some nice people in the world, present company excluded.

I'll have more later.

Paul

Grim death

2005-07-26T03:10:00.000-05:00

Larry,

What up playa? Long time, no see. I know that I haven't written in a while. What can I say. Nothing surprises me anymore. Well, almost nothing. Here's one for you.

I was outside smoking with Eric the other day. We were out by the gazebo at work. Apparently, there's this new Captain that is a former smoker and he's decreed that we all be away from the doors when we smoke. I call that pussy. Anyway, we were out by the gazebo which, by the way, is a magnet for wasps. As you know, I've never been stung. Not by anything. Well, girls are the exception. So, Mickey was out there smoking and I ducked and darted because a wasp was nearby and then she says, "If I get stung, I'll see ya'll at the hospital" or something to that effect. I, because I've read that book The Worst Case Scenario Handbook, tell her that I'd be happy to give her a tracheotomy, if she goes into anaphylactic shock. I'm cool like that. I know how to do it so I would be happy to oblige, especially to save a life and get my name in the paper, natch. She then proceeds to tell me that she'd rather die than get help from me. She tells me that all I know of medicine, I learned on ER and I should watch her die rather than save her life. I assure her that the book I read was a valid book and that the procedure is very simple. She insists. She'd rather die than to receive a tracheotomy from me. I didn't even say that she would actually need that procedure to live. But she was quite insistent and I too am intent in my resolve. Should Mickey get stung by a bee and for some reason, be without medical care, I shall refuse to help her. Really, I think at this point, I'd rather see her perish than help her. Sad, isn't it. People are pretty fucked up.

Guess what? I'd still give her the tracheotomy. I'm dying to do it. I always carry a Bic just in case.

See you in hell, Mickey.

Take care and stay cool,

Paul

X-Ray

2005-06-22T00:53:00.000-05:00

Larry,

My man! My main man. How is it going? That's such a dumb greeting. Remind me never to say that again. I hear people say that to me sometimes and I want to tell them, "Pretty shitty, actually". Or, "Man am I horny" would be nice. In truth, most people say that and I want to punch them in their chipper faces and tell them to go fuck themselves in their asses. But mostly, I say that I'm doing ok. But if you ask me that, know that I want to hurt you.

So, I got an intern at work. Sort of. He's been hired for six weeks to help out while Angela is on maternity leave and Tim's out with a ruptured neck or something. He's just about to go off to college and he's in this for some extra money. I want him to do my job so that I have more time to surf the internet and read articles about zombie dogs. By the way, there are zombie dogs. Ask me how! So, Todd is there for the next couple of months and right off I have him cleaning out storage closets and throwing away shit that should have been thrown away ten years ago. Meanwhile, I'm sitting at my desk getting some much needed rest-from all of the delegating, you see. And I'm checking out this urban legend website because I notice that on this particular day, they are dealing with the urban legend about the girl that gets the coke bottle stuck up in her business-her lady business-and I remember that in high school, we had a story like that. I don't mean that I did, but I remember hearing about it only it was a hot dog and a glow stick. Two different stories. Both probably untrue. So I was eager to find out if the story was true. It turns out that many people have had many things stuck up their asses over the last 50 years. You wouldn't believe it if I told you. Ok, I'll tell you. This is a pretty fucking disturbing list:

A bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's syrup, an ax handle, a nine-inch zucchini, countless dildoes and vibrators including one 14-inch model complete with two D-cell batteries, a plastic spatula, a 9-1/2-inch water bottle, a deodorant bottle, a Coke bottle, a large bottle cap, numerous other bottles, a 3-1/2-inch Japanese glass float ball, an 11-inch carrot, an antenna rod, a 150-watt light bulb, a 100-watt frosted bulb, a cucumber, a screwdriver, four rubber balls, 72-1/2 jeweler's saws (all from one patient, but not all at the same time, although 29 were discovered on one occasion), a paperweight, an apple, an onion, a plastic toothbrush package, two bananas, a frozen pig's tail (it got stuck when it thawed), a ten-inch length of broomstick, an 18-inch umbrella handle and central rod, a plantain encased in a condom, two Vaseline jars, a whiskey bottle with a cord attached, a teacup, an oil can, a six-by-five-inch tool box weighing 22 ounces, a six-inch stone weighing two pounds (in the latter two cases the patients died due to intestinal obstruction), a baby powder can, a test tube, a ball-point pen, a peanut butter jar, candles, baseballs, a sand-filled bicycle inner tube, sewing needles, a flashlight, a half-filled tobacco pouch, a turnip, a pair of eyeglasses, a hard-boiled egg, a carborundum grindstone (with handle), a suitcase key, a syringe, a file, tumblers and glasses, a polyethylene waste trap from the U-bend of a sink, and much, much more.

I told you. And I just read where one guy who was feeling depressed, stuck a 6-inch paper tube into his rectum and then dropped in it a lighted fire cracker. As the kids say, he tore that ass up.

But that's all beside the point. I'm reading the story and at the end of the article, there's a link to another site on which one can find x-rays of all sorts of random shit that people have put in their asses. I'm reading this when Todd walks up behind me, ready for his next assignment. I wanted to close the window but couldn't. All I could do was smile and laugh. He had to have seen the title page. Rectal Foreign Bodies. It really stands out, doesn't it?

Todd needs a bell.

Be good. Stay out of trouble.

Paul

The Eclair

2005-06-15T12:00:00.000-05:00

Larry,

I know that this is long overdo but what can I tell you? I won't lie. I haven't been busy. Just lazy and lacking the energy to do anything that remotely resembles productivity. Wouldn't want to break this unbelievably long streak. Thirty years and still going. I know, the lady doth protesteth too much or something like that.

Just wanted to get your input regarding a story that Jared told me the other day. He said that he had recently, at work, done a favor for one of his subordinates. He didn't have to but apparently she's a hard worker and an all around likeable gal so he felt that she deserved some love. I'm not sure what he did but that's beside the point. He knew that her husband was a pastry chef so when she asked him if there was anything that she could do to repay him, he jumped on the opportunity quickly and asked her politely for an eclair. In all fairness, I see now that he was asking her husband for an eclair and she was merely the messenger. Nevertheless, this is all that he asked in return for the favor that he had done. The following two days she brought in brought two big pastry boxes filled with the most succulent and decadent pastries that one could imagine. Which would have been great if not for the fact that in neither of the boxes was an eclair to be found! Quite a dilemma. Because if it were me, I would have to ask about the eclair. I wouldn't be able to not ask. He won't though because he has a vagina and what can you do about these things. I am left to speculate as to the reason for the missing eclair. I'd like to think that the eclair is his kryptonite. I can picture this guy at a fancy culinary arts institute in France, studying with world-renowned pastry chefs, and when they get to the chapter on eclairs, this guy just falls apart. He cries in his flour, nothing will rise, his face is covered with the cream that goes inside the eclairs...and not the really white cream-the kind that comes in the cheap eclairs, but the good yellowish cream that is the trademark of the fancy eclair. It's in his hair, it has been slathered all over his his face and mouth by his cold and tormented French instructor, Jean Philippe. This is what I'd like to believe.

More to come.

Paul

Peggy

2005-06-09T19:49:00.000-05:00

Larry,

What's shaking, Hollywood? Not much here. Same old, same old. This is really not a funny story that I am about to tell you. Instead, it's a sad one. This is the story of why it's sad to be a clown.

I was working out at work the other day. I know, that's redundant. Up yours. I was working out alone in the gym. Darryl comes in as he has been known to do from time to time. I usually go late in the afternoon and I think that he likes to go late as well. Maybe because it makes the afternoons shorter. I don't know. It doesn't matter. He gets on the elliptical thing next to me-which is not the bike thing but the one that's like running only not the treadmill thing-and begins his work out. There is some chit chat I'm sure. In walks Peggy, Darryl's admin assistant. Great lady. She asks me about something work-related involving toner, which, as you know, is a big part of my job. I tell that I'd be glad to help her after I finish working out. She leaves with a smile. I have that affect on ladies. When she leaves, I turn to Darryl and say "Peggy! Great lady. I love her; she's so resourceful and smart". I turn to face forward, bowing my head ever so slightly and say, rather loudly, "This is for Peggy!" and I begin to "run" on this machine like there's no tomorrow.

Good stuff. He didn't bite.

I think that he said "Woohoo". It's no fun when people play along.

Take care and write back soon, you fairy.

Paul

Balls

2005-05-26T00:41:00.000-05:00

Larry,

How's it going? Things are good here. I have much to tell you but I will keep this brief as it is late and I am very tired. This past weekend I went to eat dinner at Anna's parent's house. The dinner was good, the grilled shrimp a bit overcooked, but delicious nevertheless. After dinner and some casual conversation, Terry, Anna's stepfather, invited me upstairs for a friendly game of pool. I obliged as I am always eager to accept a challenge. It didn't take long for me to realize that I was in over my head. I haven't played pool in a while and I haven't played pool well in my lifetime. As we played nine ball, I felt the conversation was lacking and I tried to think of something to say. I reached for anything that might begin a conversation and all I could think of was to comment on the balls that we were using for our game. Honestly, I contemplated, for just a moment, saying, "I like your balls". Then, knowing that it would come out wrong, I thought perhaps, "You have pretty balls" would be more appropriate. Finally, I came to the conclusion that "Cool balls" would be ok. None were. The conversation never went anywhere. Damned balls.

Hope that all is well. More soon.

Paul

The Towel

2005-05-11T23:57:00.000-05:00

Larry,

I know that it's been awhile. Sorry. The move, etc. has kept me busy. You'll be glad to know that I am about 50% settled in and I imagine that the last 50% will be a piece of cake.

I work out at work, almost every day. It's become a routine and one that I am not embarrassed to admit I entertain. It's been a challenge for me though, what with the towels and the workout clothes. At first, I would bring one shirt and one pair of shorts to work and leave them in a locker all week. Gross, I know. But, usually by the next day, everything would be dry and only slightly smelly. However, after 9.11, we were forced to evacuate our lockers and asked to not use them on a regular basis. We were allowed to store our belongings in the lockers on a daily basis but the authorities decided that it would be best if we not keep things locked in there on a more permanent basis, for safety's sake. Long story short (too late, I know), I've had no place to store a towel or clothes each day. My solution to this dilemma was to bring clean clothes in a gym bag on a daily basis and use someone else's towel. What? I know. I am a bit of a germophobe so this is no doubt, a contradiction of extraordinary proportions. Nevertheless, that was my solution. And it works most of the time. But as time passed, I began to realize that I was in fact, using someone else's towel and I began to wonder, often as I dried hurriedly, whose towel it was and were they not occasionally in the locker room with me, watching as I dried, trying desperately to muster up the courage to confront me and demand that I stop using their towel to dry my privates and all of the other parts, of course. These days, the awkwardness of the situation is probably far more serious in my head than it is for anyone else. At least, I imagine that it is. Now, when I am done showering and the locker room is occupied by others, I must often decide whether or not I want to force this impending confrontation or drip-dry. More often than not, I dry quickly, near the stalls and hidden from view, and am forced to walk back to my locker completely naked, but without the evidence in hand. It's tough, not because I am ashamed. Difficult because I have to work with these people and I think that it's a little difficult and unusual to work with people that you can imagine naked. Especially those of the same gender.

Creepy.

What's up Steve. Here you are in the hall and I have seen you naked. How uncomfortable it must be for you. It is for me as well. Anyway, good day.

See.

Sorry again about the down-time. I promise to be more diligent. I'm not sure what diligent means.

Sincerely,

Paul

Neighbors

2005-03-17T00:39:00.000-06:00

Dear Larry,

OK, Anna and I were outside smoking earlier. Not late-maybe 10:00 PM. She likes to sit on the steps leading to the apartments upstairs. I prefer to stand near my neighbors door. It's close to the steps for one so that I can have a normal conversation with the person sitting on the steps. Two, there's a very handy rail upon which I can sit my drink if I were to have one. Tonight I did not have a beverage but that is beside the point. So, we're talking about Anna's vacation time or something to do with her job and speaking in a pretty quiet tone as far as I could tell when we hear the door behind me unlock. Then, not surprisingly, the neighbor lady cracks the door about a half an inch and just peers out with her beady little crazy eyes for like 15 seconds. As soon as I realized that she wasn't going to say anything, and it was obvious that she was only doing this as some sort of attempt at intimidation, I turn back around to face Anna and we continue the conversation. She shuts the door and then promptly cracks it again, as if to get our attention-like we didn't hear it the first time. I glanced back rather nonchalantly, thinking that this time she might actually engage someone in conversation. She didn't. Instead, she puts on her clothes, calls the front office I believe, and steps out of her apartment. No eye contact. We overhear her clearly asking someone to send someone over to her apartment right away. I thought that it might have been the police but I guess that she didn't have the balls to do that. She walks out and gets in her car and drives off. Me and Anna, finished smoking at this point, head back inside to finish watching an excellent episode of 24. About 5 minutes later, I hear her (the neighbor) pulling her car back in and see that she is accompanied by the security guard because I've noticed the flashing yellow lights of his security pick-up truck. I don't know what they did out there but no one ever came to the door. I can only imagine that the security guard showed up and asked her what the problem was only to have her reply "There were people outside...and they were... (choking back the sobs of frustration) they were talking". I wonder what the security guy said. He has more patience than me. I want so badly to leave her a little note on her door. It would say "Dear Over-Reactor" and then something else, probably insulting. It may be too late for that though. And she's not really worth it. I think that it's a white thing with her. I hear other people talking loudly outside much later in the evening-I've even heard her come in late-and to my knowledge she hasn't said anything to anyone else. I wish that she would have come to the door tonight. I had a "Shove It" for her all cocked and loaded. It would have been so great to see the look on her face. Fucking neighbors.

Eight days until I move. I can't hardly wait.

WBS,

Paul

School Spirit

2005-03-16T20:28:00.000-06:00

Dear Larry,

You know that I've sort of followed Steve Spurrier's career for the past 15 years or so. Well, maybe you didn't. In fact, you might not even know who that is but I needed to preface the content with this bit of information so that you would at least understand the context of this, my latest offering. He's a football coach and in my opinion, the greatest football coach that ever lived. He was at Florida for awhile and then he took a job with the Redskins and now he's back in the college ranks, this time with the South Carolina Gamecocks, which brings me to the point. I have recently discovered a coworker who shares my interest in this team; her because she is an alum and me obviously because I follow the coach. Not surprisingly, I just bumped into her out in the hallway at work and she looks at me and says, "Go, Cocks". I know that this won't be the last time that I hear it from her and I want to join in her enthusiasm but I can't with a straight face participate in her school chant for a couple of reasons. #1. The fact that an attractive woman has approached me only to say "Go Cocks" catches me off-guard every time that it happens. At that point, I'm stunned. I don't know what to say. My first instinct is to say yes and hope that this time, she's not talking about the football team but me instead. #2 If I say it, then it feels just a little too gay, I suppose. Not that there's anything wrong with that, right? I mean, it's not like I am opposed to cock or that I am cock-averse. I just prefer mine over any and all others, that's all. I don't think that makes me anti-gay by any means. And today's incident was the second time that it happened. I don't know what to do. I suppose that when I run in to her in the hallway and she says "Go Cocks", I'll just nod my head in support and continue about my business.

It is sort of liberating though, to be able to talk about cocks in the workplace without it being dirty or inappropriate. I think that were I comfortable with the whole thing, me and this woman could sit around and talk about cocks all day. But I think that in the end, I would feel a little icky...and maybe slightly aroused. And I can't have that at work.

That's all for now.

Paul

The Wire

2005-03-11T23:03:00.000-06:00

Larry,

What up dog? Lots going on here but I can't even begin to cover it all. However, something happened this week that reminded me of an episode of CYE. I am moving soon, as you know. I am intent upon getting rid of the home phone. Truth be told, I get more telemarketing calls than I do calls for me so I don't feel like I will miss it all that much. So, in order to get rid of the home phone, I had to set up a wireless network so that I can connect to the Tivo service everyday to download the program guide. Hence, the wireless network. Long story short, it was a pain in the ass. 2 days of torture and frustration but finally I got it. Now I can get rid of the home phone. But you know what the best thing about it is? I had this 100 ft long telephone cord that stretched halfway around my living space. Not that big a deal unless you're a big shot Hollywood movie star. Nevertheless, it was a chore. Specifically, because it crossed the threshold between the living room and the bedroom so I had to walk over it every time that I went to the bathroom, and you know that this trip is a trip that I take frequently. Needless to say, I have tripped over this cord maybe twice a day for the last 3 years. It's very annoying. Now, the cord is gone and the corner of the room is clear of any obstruction. It's so amazing, this feeling of relief and satisfaction. The funny thing is though, that every time that I walk by this space, I find that I am stepping over this cord that is no longer there. It will take some time, I'm sure, to get used to it not being there. Still, it's very disconcerting each time that I realize I am stepping over this invisible cord. It reminded me of that episode of your show, although, between you and me, I've never seen it. I believe that I fell asleep before I got to the end of the DVD and never went back and watched it. I mean, I know that you moved because of some wire, but that's about it. Anyway, I thought that my cord issue was like that phenomenon when the amputees have this sensation in their limbs that are no longer there. Except in my case, it's the phantom cord.

So, that's been the most satisfying thing that's happened all week. Inconsequential to some, but it makes all the difference to me. You know what I'm talking about.

I hope that you are well.

Sincerely,

Paul

Got Religion?

2005-03-08T19:31:00.000-06:00

Dear Larry,

Hey! I just needed to vent a little. Not real happy with the work situation right now. I'm stuck doing menial tasks so often these days that I almost dread going to work. Today was no different. I had to move PCs again. Usually I have some help from colleagues but apparently all have decided that they are too busy to do this sort of grunt work which leaves me the only responsible party. I mean, here I am with an MBA and yet I am stuck doing work that a high school kid could do. On one hand, it tickles me a little to be paid so well to do what amounts to heavy lifting but on the other hand I feel ashamed that I have been relegated to perform such a chore. So, this morning after having moved two people's computers, which was completely pointless by the way, I headed back downstairs. For some reason I stopped by a copy room, for what I can't recall. I think that maybe I wanted to sabotage a printer or something. Instead, I found several leaflets advertising some sort of church Easter function nearby. How inappropriate! You know that I work for the government so I don't need to tell you how important the separation of church and state is to our lives, nay our very existence. Well, principle got the better of me. I searched furtively for a pen and having found one, and without arousing any suspicion, I returned to the copy room and proceeded to scribble 666 on each of the four flyers. I felt better. And hopefully I taught someone a very important lesson about what should and should not be discussed in the workplace. You know as well as anyone that I have nothing against religion. I wouldn't say that I am areligious. In fact, I think that I happen to be religiousful. At the very least, I am cognizant that religion exists and that I should be thankful for God when good things happen.

Not a very eventful day by any means. But I do hope that I have pointed out to someone the error of his or her ways. It is the least that I can do.

I hope that California is as wonderful now as it has been here for the last week or so. Talk to you soon.

Paul