Welcome to the Flip Side...

When last I left you, I spoke of a stretch where I would work some 33-35 hours in a 52 hour stretch. The actual number was 37 hours in that same stretch. If you had that in your pool, I would like to have a discussion with you about the possibility that you are affecting reality with your wishes. You may be 1/3 god, you Mesopotamian shithead, and I'd like you to stop making it so that I miss Wipeout when it's on my television.

Seriously. People bouncing off giant rotating arms and giant red rubber balls makes me happy.

So. Ridiculously. Happy. No purer joy have ever I known.

None. No.

So, my big ass came home, damn near exhausted. I napped for 22 minutes.

We wandered out for Trivia. We led much of the game, but lost when an argument over whether Dana Carvey was older than Drew Carey went the wrong direction. Morally, I feel I was correct. Drew Carey is a much older soul than Dana Carvey. However, chronologically, Dana Carvey was born three years before Drew Carey.

Or so the media would have you believe.

And then, in what I've called my favorite moment in weeks: I had to go to the Wal (hyphen) Mart for sundries. Entering the store, around 11:30 or so, I passed a man who was leaving the store, a spring in his step. In one hand, a 12-pack of Charmin toilet paper, the blue variety. In one fluid motion, he tossed the package up in the air, where it turned a couple of flips, and caught it, and tucked it under his other arm.

Spiffy.

Surely, Broadway is missing a star.

If all our lives depended on it, I would never be so slick.

Were I to try such a move, it would probably end with my having to explain to the insurance agents how I blew out both knees, an elbow And had to have 2 rolls of toilet paper pulled out of my poopchute.

Anyway. That guy would get a gold star, if I had them to give out.

Which I do not.

More the pity.