Expert Opinion.

People tend to have different passions in life.  What bakes one person’s beans might not, in fact, bake someone else’s beans to quite the same level of bakedness and/or bakeosity.  Some people don’t even like beans.  Some people eat beans and get all gassy and smelly.  The point is, beans are pretty awesome, especially if you put hot dogs in them.  Wait, no, that’s not the point.  

Allow me to start over.  

I see people obsessing over sports and don’t really understand what the big deal is (see: Color Commentator).  I see people loving cars, and think, what a waste of time and energy.  Just like some people may not understand why I know so much about obscure zombie films (see: Zombie Hall… no seriously… If you’ve been wondering where the hell I have been, I have been writing there lots…).  Some people try to keep up to date with all of the newest gadgets and iDildoes, learn about fine wine, or eat all sorts of soft cheeses.  I sort of get it, but who has the money for that?  

Some people go bird watching.  No comment.

The point is everyone wants to be a buff of some kind.  I fancy myself a music buff, and a bit of a film buff, but if you are looking to be a buff and have not yet chosen something to buff on, allow me to present you with a buff list (which I guess makes me a buff buff), of what I feel are underrepresented hobbies and passions that surely must exist in the world today, somewhere.  Be a buff like these, and you’ll really stand out as a one-of-a-kind buff.

The Urinal Buff

I would imagine life as a Urinal Buff would be exciting and full of non-stop action, especially if you’re a woman.  Imagine being able to stop at a random rest area somewhere like southern New Hampshire and come out cheering.

“Honey, they have the new Falcon 4000!  Limited edition! What a swirl!  Get the camera!”

Sure, people might look at you funny when you enthusiastically piss, but every public urinal pee would be an educational experience.  You’re probably thinking that there isn’t much to know about urinals.  Maybe the Urinal Buff could also have vast toilet seat knowledge.  You don’t know.  

You don’t know because you’re not a Urinal Buff.  By the way, the Urinal Buff prefers to be called Whiz Kid.  I bet the Urinal Buffs would have all sorts of inside jokes slagging guys that sit down to pee, or prefer the comfort and privacy of a stall.

Other types of buffs along these lines could be Toe Nail Clipper Buff (“I just got the new model Trim”), Shower Curtain Ring Buff (think John Candy in “Planes, Trains”), Ceiling Fan Buff (“It’s got eight speeds!”), or Late Eighties’ Microwave Oven Buff (“You can cook a whole turkey to the max”) just to name a few.

The Crayola Connoisseur

Outside of the weird kid who ate crayons in class, few people seem to have a real appreciation for crayons, and I think that’s a shame.  I think a true Crayola Connoisseur would be able to take a crayon that is missing its little rolling paper and still be able to name which color it is, likely based on its smell and texture. They’d probably get confused between Mahogany and Shit, though.  

“Smells like Magenta, but has a bit of a Fuchsia aftertaste.”

They’d actually understand the purpose of that built in sharpener on the box too.  Also, let it be known, that the Crayola Connoisseur wouldn't respect people who know a lot about markers, because, markers and marker experts are bullshit.  You ever smelled those smelly markers?  

“Uh, yes well, the last time I checked, the color pink does not actually smell like bubble gum” said the Crayola Connoisseur, quite condescendingly.

The Firework Enthusiast

Fully grown humans enjoying fireworks have always, to me, seemed a little bit ridiculous.  I often like to blurt out things like “classic Pinsky formation” or “I wasn’t sure if they’d bring it home, but then BAM, double Fapperwheel!” because I’m so silly like that, and to me, that joke never gets old.  But imagine someone who actually knows the terminology of fireworks.  You’re probably thinking that there isn’t a terminology.  Well, probably not.  But I’d assume that the fireworks enthusiast would invent his own glossary of firework related terms and maneuvers.   I bet ‘bouquet’ and ‘finale’ would totally mean something.

I know you’re out there and I’m dying to meet you.  Probably you’re good friends with someone who knows all the techniques for making various styles of paper snowflakes.

“Check this one out! I only used three scissor cuts.”

Dental Hygiene Assistant Fanatic 

If you think that they would only know about the famous ones, you’d be wrong.  They’d know about the local up and comers too, and they’d have trading cards, like baseball cards, that have their stats printed on the back.  You know, like Cavity Assists, Cleaning Time Average, and Drool Handling?

“I’ll trade you a ‘Melinda from Springfield’ for your ‘Peggy from Rochester’ rookie card.”

Seriously, if we throw other healthcare professionals (nurses, pharmacists, the person that operates them fancy machines in the hospitals, etc…) into the mix, we could have whole talk radio channels centered on them.  I’d listen to that.

“Welcome to ‘You Can’t Handle the Tooth’, I’m your host, Barry Jogbar, let’s go to the phones.”

“Yeah, hi Barry, long time listener first time caller, what do you think Portland Charlene’s chances are at being called up to big show this year?”

“After yesterday’s veneer performance, I think they are pretty strong.  Pretty strong indeed.”

Honestly, they are already wearing colored uniforms. We might as well organize the color scheme a little more and make them form teams.  Besides, they’d certainly be better role models than people in ‘US Weekly’ (see: Keepin’ it Real).  Think of the children, people.

Cigar Aficionado Aficionado

I’ll leave it up to you the reader to decide what exactly this would be.  It’s kind of like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure, minus the horrific cover art and the fact that I always die on purpose.  

“To jump off the cliff and end your adventure, turn to page SET BOOK ON FIRE.”

Most likely a Cigar Aficionado Aficionado involves some kind of parallel universe.  I believe that it has very little to do with cigars.

I wanted to add Muzak Lover to this list, but when I did a quick search on that there Google thing, sadly, it turns out that this type of buff exists already and will therefore not make this list.  In any case, don’t feel the need to follow something on this list necessarily.  I’m simply trying to get your brain motivated to get out there and be creative.  Go become the first SOMETHING Buff.  The world needs buffs of all kinds.  Except illegal stuff, or stuff that involves a lot of eating.  There are enough of those buffs as it is.  Also, don’t confuse Buff with Fetish.  You should like something, not like-like something.  Big difference.

That’s it.  My office building got the new Falcon installed and I need to go try it out.

Fool's Errand.

Don’t you just hate doing the groceries? I don’t mean going to a little yuppie cutesy market and buying little organic wheatballs or whatnot. I mean the weekly groceries. Milk products, eggs and string cheese, meat sticks, fruit roll ups, frozen stuff and all that other shit. There are always so many obstacles standing in your way from having a nice, carefree and smooth errand run. The main problem, as always, is the clientele at these establishments. At the grocery store, you will likely be there at the same time as some of the following schmucks.

A) Bullshit parents with their sucky children.

You know what really bugs me? A kid walking around eating potato chips out of the bag before it’s been paid for. The parents always look like real champs too.

“Mommy I wants my potatey chips! NOW!”
“Fine, here you go, Travis, have your Pringles. What can I say? He just doesn’t like to have to wait until he gets home to eat his Pringles.”

Doesn’t like waiting until he gets home? Does this apply to everything in the store to you people? If it does, I gotta say, I’m a little bit frightened to go down the toilet paper aisle. Thank god you’re not shopping for toilet seats or dildoes. Why are you so Gung Ho on creating all kinds of needy little fat monsters, anyways? Here’s an idea, let’s teach the kids about patience. They can wait. No one needs Fudgeos that badly, ever, never, not ever. This is the same ass-hat parent who sees his kid eating grapes out of someone else’s cart and thinks:

“Isn’t that cute? No, Todd, don’t take that man’s grapes, here I opened the chocolate milk for you.”

Yeah, real cute, a little thieving bastard. I say we should be ratting these kids out to the security guards at the front, and the parents too, because I think they’re in on it.

Ever seen one of those jackasses with their jackass child on one of those leash harness things? I’ve actually had it where Jackass was looking at granola bars on one side of the aisle and Jackass Junior was on the other side licking cans of cake icing. This, in turn, was causing the leash to act like some kind of police caution tape, or velvet rope, or any other blocking belt like instrument. I suggest you bring scissors along for just such an occasion. Chances are a good thirty minutes might go by before Jackass sees that their kid is no longer at the other end of the rope.

"I now declare this bridge open."

How about the moron that lets his dumb kid operate the cart? I’m not talking about the responsible parent/kid team with the kid who knows the score. Those kids are awesome, and should instantly be promoted to adult status. I’m talking about the dumb kids, produced by dumb parents. Look, if your kid sucks and you want them to learn about responsibility, give them extra chores, get them a dog, force them to work in a factory, or send them to Maury, and subsequently to Boot Camp, but don’t let them push the cart. The other day, I turned a corner into the cereal aisle, and there was a child piloted cart perpendicular to the row, a roadblock, if you will. The kid was just sitting there, dumbfounded.

Not surprisingly, I didn’t’ see a parent anywhere. Probably they were chasing their other child, currently free and running around with half a leash dangling behind them. Or maybe the parent is one of those real important looking people (with the Bluetooth headset and high-speed raditude) and was busy talking about something very loudly and simply didn’t realize that their kid wasn’t behind them anymore. You know the kind of douche bag that I mean, who's all like “I said fourteen million god dammit!” Just push the cart out of the way, the kid won’t really notice or care, as they are more than likely busy playing Gameboy and/or picking their nose. Don’t hold onto their cart for too long or they might start following you, and assuming that you are their parent.

Recently I was in a parking lot, and this horrible looking mother was trying to get her horrible looking daughter out of the car, at which point the daughter screamed at her mother to “get the fuck out of my face, faggot”, to which the mother replied something along the lines of wishing that she could send her daughter back to Russia. The daughter of course said she’d be happy to get away from her “faggot” mother, and of course the mother said that she would love to do it too, and that she should “just wait... you just wait an' see”. Hey, at least they finally agreed on something. I can’t begin to explain the cornucopia of problems I have with all of these statements and with this pair of winners. Personally I wouldn’t want to send her to Russia, because that would just be exporting the bad genes, and could ignite a war. Let’s keep it local. I guess I don’t really have a point at the end of all of this, except that I really wish that that wasn’t a true story and maybe that some people just really shouldn’t make any babies.

B) Old people, just in general, but especially the really old ones.

They never know what they want, and they never know where to find it. They navigate their carts the same way that they drive, making incredibly wide turns and nearly running people over. They knock shit off the shelves without even realizing. When choosing eggs, they take forever. They fill their carts with oddly large quantities of fish. I think their goal is to slow everything down, and keep everyone in the store for so long that, upon exiting, everyone is old like them. If they are in an aisle, that aisle is slow, if they are at checkout, then that checkout line is terribly slow. They have coupons, and they want to try and negotiate prices, even though they can’t. Also, once it’s finally time to pay, they always pay cash, and it’s always, “Hold on now, now just wait a second, I think I’ve got the seventeen cents”… in pennies.

I once saw an old lady arguing with the cashier over the price of the decorative wax fruit she picked up in the non-food section of the grocery store. She was insisting that bananas were on special, at twenty-nine cents per pound, and asking for the manager. Either she is brilliant, confused, or completely insane, but in any case, you definitely don’t want to be behind her in the checkout line. I don’t know how this particular wax banana argument ended, because the cashier two rows down opened up a brand new line and I ran over a small boy and his mother to get there before anyone else. I was out of there before the manager had even made it over to resolve the banana dilemma. The best way to deal with old people cluttering up the aisles and checkout lines is to ask them if they need any help with their groceries, and then club them over the head with a baguette when their guard is down.

C) Couples,you know, the annoying kind.

Maybe they just moved in together, maybe they are newlyweds, maybe this is the first time they’ve gone shopping for groceries together and they are letting themselves get carried away in the romantic sights and smells of the milk products and various butters, but honestly, let's keep the hardcore make out sessions for home. The really annoying ones get so caught up in the moment that they leave their cart in the middle of nowhere, and that’s when there’s an obstacle created. Screaming “Get a Room” or slapping one of them on the back of the head, won’t get you anywhere. I like to just take off with their cart, or throw random shit in it, like pickled bull testicles, or expired cheeses. Pickled bull testicles and moldy Camembert? But, those aren’t on the list!

“Honey did you put these in the cart? Because, you know I’m allergic!”
“How do I know you’re not just getting them for that bimbo floozy at the office?”
“That’s it, I want a divorce!”

…and scene.

Couples that fight at the grocery store aren’t good for anyone’s well being either. Yelling, screaming, dangerous arm waving… All of these can lead to trouble. I get stressed out just being in an aisle with them. I feel like I have to get out of the aisle and give them their privacy, but then I think, that’s bullshit, I really need some of that artificial cheese. If you see a couple fighting, then throw a jar of apple sauce or a container of plain yogurt right at their feet and yell out “cleanup on aisle seven”. That ought to shut them up, shut them up real good. Then reach right over one of their shoulders onto the shelf behind them, and be like, "excuse me, but I was really just trying to get some Velveeta".

D) Picky people picking out produce, taking forever.

Some people apparently know all of the tricks to finding the best fruit and veggies ever. Man, fuck those people. They sit there in front of the tomatoes taking up space, when all I want to do is grab four or five tomatoes and move on quickly to the next item on the list. One technique I like to employ is to tap them on the shoulder and ask them to pick some out for me. They’re happy because they get to show off their “skills” and I’m happy because I still got my tomatoes before them. If they say no, then just throw tomatoes at them, and boo them. These are the same people that you see squeezing all the loaves of bread, in some kind of psycho-sexual quest for freshness. Always take the loaves at the back of the shelves, there’s less chance that those ones have been thoroughly molested. The bread feelers seem to feel the front most loaves and then move on.

And, this is completely unrelated, but why do they even have those huge peanut sacks in the produce section near the potatoes? Are there a lot of elephant owners in the urban milieu? I’ve never seen anyone buy a single one of these huge sacks. If you want to get some attention, dress up like a circus ringmaster and fill a cart with those peanut sacks. Everyone will get excited and think that the circus is in town. Speaking of which, does the circus still come to town, and if so, do people get excited? Do they still travel by train, with the giraffe head coming out of one car? You know, and the bearded lady and stretchy thin guy are married, and their kids are wolfboy and fartface? These are all questions that fill my head and cause me to forget to pick up liquid fabric softener and garbage bags. Meanwhile, this asshole is still checking each cantaloupe one by one. Just make a fucking decision already!

E) Cheap people, focusing solely on sale items.

These are the idiots that think that toilet paper only goes on sale once every generation. Have you ever seen a toilet paper sale, where it’s one of those big packs of about forty-eight rolls on sale for half price, and it says ‘limit of eight per customer’? And you’re thinking, who could possibly buy more than one, let alone eight? Right after asking yourself that, you see the guy. He’s got eight of them balancing in his cart, like the leaning tower of teepee, trying to navigate through the aisles to get to the cash. He’s not even here for anything else. He’s just here for toilet paper. How much shit could your household possibly produce that you need this much toilet paper? I wouldn’t even know where to put it. I’d need a spare room in my apartment just for the toilet paper. This is the same person who feeds his children Christmas Logs for supper everyday in January, because they are now eighty-five percent off. After all, it has all four food groups: milk, molasses, fruit and logs. I guess, a family surviving on an all Christmas Log diet, would go through quite a bit of toilet paper. Increase Log input, exponentially increase log output. Everything is starting to make more sense now, you know, mathematically.

The good part about these people is that they usually know exactly what they want. They often do their homework and know specifically what is on sale. The real trouble comes when you get the people that go in blind and just browse for sale items. These are the people that take up space and try reading the bar codes to see if the little sale label corresponds to the product that they are holding.

“I can’t tell if it’s all the Mini-Wheat varieties or just the cinnamon bun ones that are on sale.”
“Check the bar code.”
“I’m trying to see. There’s a number here that ends in ninety-two, do you have a ninety-two?”
“I’ve got a seventy-five.”
“Hmmm.”

I like to give them misinformation. Tell them that, "actually, it’s all the cereals other than the Mini-Wheats that are on sale". They’ll be very excited. Try to sound like you work there. Generally these people are stupid, and will believe you. If you do this, though, be sure not to end up behind them at checkout, or else you will be there for a while.

“But the cereal man said it was all on sale.”
“Right, which ceral man was it? Was it Captain Crunch or Tony the Tiger?”
“No, he was dressed all in black.”
“Sure. That’s Count Chocula. Are you on any medication?”

Sometimes these people are also old, so you’re facing all the same problems mentioned earlier as well, at which point you should ask them if they need any help with their groceries, and then club them over the head with a baguette when their guard is down.

If you find a grocery store that is open really late at night, then going late at night can often assist you in avoiding many of the aforementioned problematic peoples. However, beware, because late at night, you risk running into a whole mess of other types of problematic peoples such as: crazy people, the homeless, night shift workers, vampires, lounge singers, prostitutes, crackheads, insomniacs, ninjas, or combinations of those I just listed. If you are able to go in the middle of the day, on a weekday, this is also advantageous, as it will diminish the overall number of people, however the concentration of old people, will be increased. Make sure to load your cart with day old baguettes, and you'll be fine. It’s clobberin’ time.

That’s it. Toilet paper’s on sale.

Panel of Judges.

Probably, you care what people think of you. Probably you care too much. While it is true that first impressions can be important, relying on them too much is kind of a cop out. Lazy people too lazy to bother getting to know someone properly will rely on first impressions to write people off, and thus, judging a book by its cover. For instance, they say that you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their shoes. But I don’t know how accurate this would really ever be. Like if a person is wearing plastic bags, you will think that maybe they’re homeless, but I’ve gone to university classes or grocery stores wearing crusty old slippers, or duct taped holey shoes, and I’m pretty sure that I had a home at the time. It’s not like there are specific shoes that go with different jobs either, like police shoes, or janitor shoes, or taxidermist shoes. Except for clowns, they have their own shoes. Speaking of clown shoes, they’re also a good example that shoe size doesn’t always reflect foot size, so you can’t count on that assumption either. What about those goofy looking morons who walk around wearing those super pointy dress shoes? Surely their feet don’t actually come to a sharp knife-like sheik style curly conclusion like that? Hence, shoe shape does not equal foot shape.

And forget about thinking that you can tell where they’re coming from, or where they’re going, based on their shoes, and all that Forrest Gumpshit stuff, because if you see someone wearing soccer cleats, you might assume they’re playing soccer soon, but now your guard is down, and maybe they’re actually about to kick you in the nuts. Look out! I guess getting kicked in the nuts by a steel-toe shoe would be the most painful. Clogs or even elf shoes would be quite painful as well due to their shape, and also would be tremendously humiliating. You’d sure feel like a loser if and when they’d start dancing around you, as you lay on the floor, in the foetal position. A clown kick in the balls, with the squeaky shoes, would probably be the most embarrassing and humiliating of all, though, you know, because it would squeak once or twice upon testicular connection. Also, it’s usually a pretty wide shoe, and would probably strike each individual gonad with equal force.

Anyways, if shoes are off the table, but you still would like to effectively try and judge a book by its cover, then here are a few accurate ways to gauge someone’s personality, just by observing some random thing about them.

You can tell a lot about a person by…
how drunk they currently are.

This completely depends on context too, but is mostly self explanatory. If you see someone dancing around with their shirt off, at the office, on their desk, while simultaneously peeing themselves, slurring their speech, holding a whiskey bottle, and talking about how the government stole their best pair of bowling shoes, and you’ve seen this happens three times this week, then you can safely say that they have a problem. You might also wonder why they still have their job. What’s your company’s problem? That does look like fun though, doesn’t it? If they can get away with it, then why can’t you? Now you join them. Now you have a problem too. Oh no! You barfed on the floor. Oh well, that’s the janitor’s problem. What are you looking at? What’s your problem, man?

“That's mister Vice President to you. Pack up your things, you’re both fired.”
“No problem! I hated this job anyways.”

Unemployment is a huge problem.

You can tell a lot about a person by…
which finger they use to pick their nose in public.

Be careful picking in public. You’re giving away hints about who you are. Some of you might find it wrong to pick in public altogether. Well, you are considered to be snobs. You can generally be spotted by your huge nose, turned up at the rest of the world, completely full of snots which are entirely visible from the outside. You won’t clean house, and we can all tell. You know when someone has one just barely hanging on to the outer rim of their nostril, swaying with the wind of each exhale, and you just want to yell at them to take care of it? Well I like to throw one of those little tissue packs at them. It’s well worth the dollar. If you’re more normal, and you realize that there is an urgent need to empty out after a long day of breathing in crusty air, but still care what other people think, then you will likely first attempt the thumb pick. This tells the rest of us that you don’t want to offend us with visible boogers or whistling nostrils, but also don’t want to make it too obvious and gross us out. Now that’s class. Unfortunately, due to its larger size and awkward positioning, you often can’t get anything meaningful with the thumb. Sometimes you’ll even be cursing yourself for having clipped your nails the night before.

“Curses! If I only had yesterday’s superior longer thumb nail I could have gotten this thing out by now. Why did I clip!?!”

Usually you just work at it a bit and loosen it up for your next line of defense, the index. You gain much more reach with the index. You should, however, be careful not to start digging when anyone is looking directly at you. You can still hide most of the nostril with the thumb, in case someone glances your way, but for the initial penetration, you should make sure the coast is clear. Remember, the key word here is class. If you successfully pluck one out of the nose, you might have to move up to the middle and ring finger, but only to roll it into a flickable morsel, not to dig. Be sure to only ever flick it onto the floor or a small child. Never use the smear technique, unless you can smear it onto a tissue, or else you risk smearing your reputation if someone spots it. Also, it is important to notice that the middle finger and ring finger never entered the nostril. The index and thumb are the only ones that should penetrate the nostril in public.

If you’re caught using the pinky to pick in public, then it tells the rest of the world that you’ve completely given up on yourself, and should be arrested, immediately. There is nothing more disturbing than catching someone in the midst of a full-on backhanded pinky dig, with the elbow raised in the air, and making that nose pick face like they’re trying to pull their eyeball out through their nostril, eyes watering ever so slightly. You obviously mustn’t care what the rest of us think of you, or that we’re scared you might start bleeding if you dig any harder. And don’t think that wrapping a tissue around the pinky somehow excuses you. It’s still revolting to see, especially since we know you’ll end up examining your findings after the gold dig is over. The same goes for rolling up a tissue and using it like a soft sixth finger. That's bullshit.

Remember, if you see a person with a very long pinky nail, sure, they may be a flamenco guitarist, or they may be an honest to goodness coke fiend, but be careful, because they just may be a public pinky picker, and no one wants to see that. Look away! Jeepers creepers, get a room.

You can tell a lot about a person by…
their breath.

You can tell what kind of food they’ve been eating, if they’re a smoker, if they’re drunk, if they’ve recently had a genital in their mouth, if they’re dehydrated, if they’re sick, if they’re all minty fresh, what kind of gum they like, if they’ve had too much coffee today, too much tea, if they forgot to brush their teeth, remembered to brush their teeth, if they’ve recently napped, or any number of other smelly giveaways.

Most importantly, if you are able to detect such subtleties in their breath and can even clearly see the texture of the shit caught in their teeth and of their gums, then this means that the person is definitely a close-talker. This, in turn, means that they are one of the worst people to talk to ever, and are potentially psychologically damaged. Careful, they're grabbing your arm to pull you in closer!

You can tell a lot about a person by…
whether they wipe their ass sitting down or standing up.

You may or may not have realized, but there are indeed two popular methods utilized for wiping in the modern day afterpoop routine. The timid people, more reserved and prudish, tend to remain seated, possibly in an attempt to conceal the fruits of their labour. I’m no scientician or psycho-analysisser, but that sounded totally legit. The standing people, on the other hand, are proud and fearless. They like to properly examine their output before extinguishing the smelly fire. They check for inconsistencies and take mental pictures to remember length and girth, and compare with previous efforts. Some people claim to be somewhere in between, but these people are indecisive, and that to me, screams of sitters. Standers are sure of themselves, and proud to be standers. The sitters of the world are sneaky, untrustworthy types.

That’s why I believe that the automatically flushing toilets were conceived by politician-sitters to try and convert the proud standing people of the world into more passive sitters. Now, for the standers, on these auto toilets, wiping has become a race against the auto clock. If you miss that first round flush, your autographed paper is still sitting in the bowl, un-flushed and exposed, alone. Now you have to sit back down, not knowing how long you need to wait until you can get back up and make it flush again. It hardly seems fair. Those damn sitters probably wipe, and then walk away and never look back. Well, probably they pull up their pants first. But I bet they don’t even care if it clogs. Not the standers. They are considerate, they stand, they watch, and they make sure everything goes down smooth. They also pull up their pants before walking away though. Some sources have told me that most automatic toilets have an override button, but I think that’s bullshit. I haven’t ever seen one. That sounds to me like a rumour started by sitters to try and keep the standers from rioting.

“There must be a button here somewhere… I guess I just don’t see it…”
“Haw haw haw, those fools. There’s no button! Yes… Sit back down! Good…Sit...”

While we’re on the subject, the courtesy flush becomes a little awkward, for both sitters and standers, with the automatic toilet, doesn't it? Because, either you have to get up and walk away a little, even though you know you might have another round coming, or you have to lean forward far enough that the toilet thinks you’re no longer there. The problem with leaning really far forward is that you’re bent over far enough that someone outside the stall can now see your head. Now they know it’s you, and that you were in the midst of such a dirty experience, that you required a courtesy flush.

Now that I think about it, I suppose that in a public bathroom, you could tell a lot about someone by their shoes though, by looking at the shoes in the stall, and then later recognizing them walking around in the workplace, or school, or street, or wherever.

“Hey, I know those shoes. Second floor bathroom lunchtime diarrhea guy, right?”
“STOP JUDGING ME!”

Here’s a question. When a sitter is at home and runs out of toilet paper, and the cabinet is empty, and then they have to leave the bathroom to go get some more elsewhere in the home, do they stay in the seated position the whole time? These are the kinds of questions I ask myself, when I probably should be doing my job instead.

You may be wondering how you would even find out if someone is a sitter or a stander, especially when we are talking about first impressions, and you just don’t recognize their shoes from any previous bathroom visit. Well, that’s easy. Follow them to the can and wait. Duuhh. Or just ask them.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Wallace.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Alfred… say, do you wipe your ass standing up or sitting down. I just want to get to know a bit more about who the real you is.”

You’ll make a lasting impression. That’s what all of this was about anyways, wasn’t it? I guess it wasn’t about that at all. Oh yeah: Learning to not judge a book by its cover, except for certain cases where you should. Never judge a book based on its shoes, or else you might get kicked in the nuts. Unless you saw those shoes in a bathroom stall, and can then assume a certain level of knowledge regarding the frequency and style of their bowel movements. Also if the book has swords and dragons and dwarves and shit, then it could potentially be a really lame read. These are all just very loose guidelines. Now, go use the power of observation! I’m sure I’ll think of some more ways to judge the covers of books later. I’ll be sure to let you know.

That’s it. I need to go out to buy some shiny new shoes and books.

Accessory Before and After the Fact.

Underwear, socks, shirts, pants, shoes, jackets. What more do you need? There can be some subtle variations thrown into the mix, depending on temperature or the overall formality or informality of the milieu you are heading into. But everything should have its purpose and function clearly established. In an attempt to set yourself apart from the pack, you may have added on all sorts of needless and useless accessories and gimmicks to your body and appearance. You thought they made you cool and different. They didn’t. They made you look lame and the same as everyone else trying to be different through superficial means.

For example, tattoos are starting to really piss me off. Don’t get a tattoo. There definitely was a time when tattoos had their charm. I think it was back when a tattoo actually meant something. It meant that that person was in the military, or in a street gang, or had been to prison, or was a member of some cult, or was honouring a close friend or relative that burst into flames prematurely. If someone asks you what your tattoo means, or what the tattoo that you want to get means, and the best answer you can come up with is,

“I like dolphins!”, or
“I’m really into like tribal shit and shit.”, or
“Tattoos are so cool! Eveyone’s doin’ it.”, or
“It’s the Japanese symbol for GIGANTIC COCKSUCKER.”,

then it is likely time to look into its removal, or simply to not get it in the first place. If you have enough that you call them your ‘tats’ then you really need to examine their meaning and discriminate a little more.

And what about hats? Seriously man, fuck hats. Don’t wear “stylish” hats in a lame attempt of being different. New hat, same ol’ lame. I agree that at times, hats can be functional, like a helmet, or a tuque in the winter time. But outside of this, hats don’t really do a whole hell of a lot of good. Sometimes hats are good for keeping hair out of your face, while working, playing a sport, exercising, or whatever. Fine. But don’t wear it all damn day, all the time. You know when you wear a baseball cap all day, and at the end of the day, you take it off and move your hair around, and your hair kind of hurts? That should be an indicator that you’re wearing the hat a little too much. Tone it down, mr. Cappy Cap. Bald dudes sometimes try and use hats to cover up, but you should be proud of your shiny manly head! If I was bald, I’d polish that sucker so that people would be blinded by my head in the sunshine. You could spot me from space. Hats off! If you’re using it to protect from the UV rays of the sun, however, this can definitely be accepted, as no one likes a burnt charred head. Toupees are the worst hats of all.

Now, I agree that sometimes hats can help us recognize what someone is or does, as part of a uniform of some kind. Some examples could be policeman, cowboy, military, biker dude, Native American… construction worker… wait a minute, that seems like a familiar group. Did the Village People wear their hats? No, the Village People were their hats.

If the Village People had just shifted some stuff around a little, they could have come very close to achieving global unity through one song. Think about it, we got cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers (biker dude… no?), construction worker and… sailor? Sailor?!? What the hell is that bullshit? They could’ve done without that ‘In the Navy’ crap anyways. Get rid of navy boy and throw in a business man executive type. Then you’d have cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, blue collar and white collar, all singing in unity. We’d have to come up with a nifty hat for the white collar guy, but it totally can be done. Likely, it would be some type of fedora, but we’ll leave it up to the People themselves to decide. And then you’d have it all: racial, social, economical… hold on. Let’s take it up a notch, because we are still missing some major and popular forms of bigotry. Let’s add two brand new members to the Village People: Jew and Muslim, or maybe Scientologist and Roman-Catholic, or how about Atheist and Vampire, or Mormon and ANYTHING ELSE. Now they’re singing all together, regardless of racial, social, economical, or religious disagreements and differences.

What about the gays and the straights, you ask? Well, that’s already being covered. ‘YMCA’ is the gayest gay anthem that the world has ever gayed. Knowing that, now, go to any wedding, social event, company outing, or anywhere that features a hip “DJ” and you will be able to witness any number of conservative, lame, homophobic morons all dancing like idiots, singing along, and doing the ridiculous hand and arm motions to that very song. They even do the pelvis pump and finger point during the verses, in a lame imitation of dance moves that they probably learned from watching the ‘The Full Monty’, the raciest movie that they’ve ever seen. That’s right folks, you read it here, ‘YMCA’ could be a harbinger of peace. ‘We Are the Champions’ is definitely a close second, by succeeding to get homophobic jock primates the world over to sing operatically at sporting events, but it hardly covers all of the world’s problematic bases the way ‘YMCA’ does. However, if Freddie Mercury was still alive today, I believe he would have ended war forever by now, with his super human, out of this world brand of Rock, and his little baton microphone stand thing.

Speaking of aliens, honestly, if at one point we start exploring new planets, this is how we should present ourselves. Just land on an inhabited planet, let the big spaceship doors open up (like a big closet), and then let out the Village People (or more likely a seasoned Village People cover band), with all the above suggested modifications, singing and dancing the ‘YMCA’. By the time the second chorus rolls around, man those aliens will be so pumped up for it. Probably they’ll false start a little like a drunken grandma at a bar-mitzvah, but it’s ok, it’s their first try, after all.

“‘Y’! ‘M’! … ‘c’… oh oops… no not yet? Oh geez, I thought it was that time again… oh my, what a party! Woo!”

Contrary to what you might be thinking though, the Village People’s rare and fantastically acceptable form of hat usage does not excuse all musicians from needless hat wearing.

“Justin Timberlake wears hats now? Well, shit, I need to get me a hat and wear a hat too! Ready, set, hattify.”

Think for yourself! Hats are lame, so stop trying so hard! Also, someone tell Jason Mraz, or Hat Guy, to knock it off too (I definitely did not come up with the idea of calling him Hat Guy. I read it in a CD review somewhere, where the reviewer claimed that his new release featured even more Hat Power than ever. Great stuff, I wish I could remember where I read it). I went to an outdoor festival where Hat Guy was playing and it was an absolute ocean of lame hats. It’s bad enough that he’s wearing one, but now the Hat Followers are too. I was worried that all fifty thousand hats were going to join together and make some kind of super hat like the robots in Voltron, or to a lesser degree, the Mighty Morphin Power Ranger robots, and destroy us all with cheesified toe-tappin’ blue eyed soul. Except for all of the cougars of course, who, rather than melt, would grow tall like the fifty foot woman, and dance the night away with the same dance moves they learned at their high school prom, circa 1987, and have recently been perfecting at Jason Mraz, Maroon 5, or sadly, John Mayer concerts. Then the Village People would have to join up like the Power Rangers too to defeat them all. “IT’S MORPHIN’ TIME!” I won’t spoil everything for you, so it will remain a partial surprise when it all happens, but the cowboy’s robot is a huge god damn horse.

While we’re on the subject of needless hat usage perpetrated by musicians, at least seventy-five to ninety-five percent of country musicians shouldn’t be wearing those cowboy hats. You’re not cowboys, and you’re not helping to create global unity like the Village People’s fake cowboy. Take off your hats!

I could do without all of these piercings too. Much like the tattoo, at one time piercings could have had their use, to set you apart and make you look scary and shit, like whatever class of Warrior, Pirate, Prostitute, Ninja or Wizard that you happened to be, in whatever radical period of history you were from. But nowadays, you don’t look original or extreme or even scary, just lame. You just look like you fell asleep on a sequin gun. And stop inventing random places to get pierced. Metallic zits all over your face and a whole pile of what look like bad stapling accidents? Screw that! You think it’s rebellious? I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that you pierced your asshole shut, since you’re totally full of shit. Come up with something actually new and shocking, piercings are unacceptable. I don’t even like earrings on women, really. Nothing, that’s what I like, which is unfortunate, since I’m in a generation of people that will probably start taking their five year olds to get their eyebrow pierced.

“Come on Skyler, don’t you want to look like the ‘Green Day’? It will only hurt for a second, and then you’ll get ice cream… flavored broccoli-soya ooze treats. Hold still while I fix your mascara and eye liner. Stop crying, you’re ruining it.”

Honestly, be careful with jewelry in general, not just piercings. People shouldn’t jingle, ever. Never, ever, not ever. If you call anything your ‘bling’, throw that blingy thingy out the window, now. And I’m not too comfortable with big fuckin’ belt buckles either. Belts, I get. You don’t want your pants to fall, and therefore, it is a functional accessory. But big shiny metallic glittery buckles that say “Big Daddy” or look like fire engines, or eagles, or whiskey bottles… really? You’re either trying to draw attention away from your face, or towards your crotch. Either way, I just don’t trust you, or like you very much. No more stupid belt buckles. Also, you all need to take the makeup down a notch or two. This goes for both men and women. You know what social group wears a lot of makeup? Circus clowns. If you want to get yourself lumped in with them, then go for it. Otherwise, let’s see what you really look like under there. And what’s with the fake nails? Who is finding this appealing? No more fake nails.

“Yes, I’d like to get the really long nails that make it impossible for me to do any simple hand oriented tasks, like tying shoelaces, opening a soda can, typing, wearing rubber gloves, etcetera etcetera, please. Also make sure that they break pretty easily. I love being able to whine about breaking a nail. And please make sure that they match the color of my bullshit.”

And what’s all this about wearing glasses when you don’t need them? That’s like riding around in a wheelchair just for the fun of it (said George Costanza once in reference to something else altogether, but it applies nicely here). If the person doesn’t need the glasses, then the “don’t hit a guy with glasses” rule is definitely thrown out the window. Punch away, right in the fake glasses area. Monocles are acceptable though, even if you don’t need one, since it takes tremendous balls to walk around with a monocle. I’d like to see a guy in sweatpants and an old ripped Iron Maiden shirt walking around wearing a monocle and checking his pocket watch. Just seems to me like it would be fun to see. Also, no matter what you may have heard in songs by Corey Hart or George Clinton, sunglasses should be reserved for the outdoors on sunny days only. No exceptions to the rule. Feel free to punch a guy wearing sunglasses at night. He probably won’t see it coming anyways. He’s busy trying to check out girls without them noticing, a low level Peeping Tom, if you will. Peeping Tom seems like far too friendly of a term for a category of sex offender doesn’t it? I’d even prefer the vague, non-specific “pervert” over Peeping Tom. Peeping Tom sounds like a fun activity.

“Where are you going?”
“I’m going peeping with my peepers. Careful, I just might peep at you!”

I guess successful Peeping Toms aren’t very superstitious people either. Otherwise they’d be putting down the binoculars every two minutes thinking that “a watched pot never boils.” Although, I suppose if they were superstitious, one that they wouldn’t have too much trouble with is “Touch Wood” (also popular is the term “Knock on Wood”). Some people might feel like they’re not just a Peeping Tom. That’s just too low brow. They’re sophisticated, they’re Voyeurs. Oh yeah, that’s what we need to do, classy up the terms for the perverts and make them sound like performance artists.

“Well, first I locate a proper and sturdy tree to venture within, that assures me a decent view into a window, and with optimal branch coverage, and then, well, I just wait until the time is right. Some use standard bird watching binoculars, but I prefer Opera Glasses. Camouflage by Armani.”
“What technique! What voyeurage! And a classic La Braunzapanelli finish? I give it nine point seven out of ten.”

It’s only a matter of time before GQ will start printing 'How-To' articles for the twenty-first century Voyeur, claiming that people actually want to have their privacy invaded, and be ogled. Thankfully we haven’t started up with other pleasant and friendly ways to describe sex offenders, because the world probably isn’t ready for the ol’ Roofy Randy, the Pee-Wee Herman, the Collecter Chris, the Diddler Dan, the Statutory Steve, the No-Consent Norman, the Bob Barker or even the Get Along Gang Bang. I’ll let you decide what all of those may refer to. Sure enough, the 'How-To' articles in GQ would follow shortly. Is there a female version of the Peeping Tom? Like Peeping Tina or something? Those articles would go in Cosmopolitan. In short, don’t wear sunglasses unless it’s necessary, i.e. sunny, you loser.

Don’t get carried away with hair either. If you just got your hair ‘done’, then you’ve already gone too far. You should get your hair cut, not done. It shouldn’t be “Check out my hairdo”. It should be “I just got a haircut”. Keep it simple. I’m not saying you have to go to those horrible barber shops, with the seventy-five year old barbers and the twenty-five year old issues of Penthouse. Those places only do about three haircuts, anyways: The mama’s boy side part, the bowl cut, and the skinhead. And that's for both men or women. I’m just saying to not get too caught up with having a unique style and flare. If you go in a salon, make it clear from the beginning.

“What can we do for you today?”
“Pretty much take exactly what I have now, but just shrink it down a bit.”
“So, the same hairdo?”
“No, same haircut. Neat, nice, slightly shorter than it is now.”

Beards and most forms of facial hair are fine. Just remember that, sideburns shouldn’t be too pointy, too thin or too groomed, handlebar moustaches should only be for people who can comfortably refer to themselves as ‘wranglers’, and the regular moustache is reserved for those who are old enough that they had the moustache before moustaches were associated with scummy sketchy creepy greasy people.

And to the Carrot People from the tanning salons (you know who they are, you've seen them), you need to get your shit under control as well. You know who else likes the tanning salon? Skin Cancer. Spray-On Carrot People are equally lame, but at least smart enough not to make friends with the Skin Cancer. You know who Carrot People turn into when they are older? Leather People. I don’t mean people that wear a lot of leather. I mean people whose faces look like old dried-up used saddlebags. Over tanning equals a bad idea.

In conclusion, you need to have non-superficial ways to try and show people that you’re special, because these superficial ways just aren’t special anymore. Be yourself and speak your mind. That’s what I want more of. Trust me, if you just would get out from behind the facade, I guarantee that you’re special just the way you are. Your mom was right. And so was Billy Joel for loving you that way.

That’s it. Hats off to individuality!

Turn It Up, Man.

Since the moment you learned how to drive you probably learned how to fix the stereo just the way you like it. You figured out how to turn it up real loud and vibrate the rear view mirror and “shock” your neighbors. You found the correct combination of bass and treble so that the speakers don’t sound like they are popping or crackling with every beat. Maybe you changed the whole stereo system altogether to make it more awesome and make it go to eleven. You may have even mistakenly thought that this instantly made you cool and bad-assed. Most people ridicule the ghetto blasters that pass by. But, not all vehicular loud music will be ridiculed and warrant pedestrians and other drivers to say:

“Look at this fucking guy.”

If you follow my strict guidelines, then through the proper use of the vehicular sound system, you can achieve the title of Mysterioso-Skary, Über and/or Hella Cool, Rebel Yella’, Fun Lovin’ Baller, Chillaxor, Breezy to tha’ Mo’ Fo’ Shee-Zee, All Pimpin’ N’Shit, iPoderrific, Exxxtreme, For Reals, Awesome to the Max, Sooo Metal Dude like Sooo Freakin’ Metal, Fuckin’ Core, OMG’ed, PWNzORz, !!!WOOT!!! or any of the other eighty-seven recognized forms of Badditude. The pedestrians and other drivers will revere, respect and maybe even fear you. The very first thing, that you must always remember, is that the driver is in charge of the music by default, and will be held responsible for the vehicle's musical status. So, if you let one of your passengers handle the stereo, be sure that they can be trusted to not tarnish and destroy your rep or street cred. It would indeed suck if someone dissed or shafted you, or to be called a poser.

I will go through several very general and vague categories of music and explain the whens and wheres of playing them at high volume in your ride. I won’t mention band names, so that this guide may remain as timeless and unbiased as possible, and so that you can judge for yourself what fits into each category. If you come across music which doesn’t fit into any of the below mentioned categories or that fits into many categories, then pick the rules that you feel best apply to that particular piece of music.

One general rule: if you drive a DeLorean, you can only listen to Huey Lewis and The News. This is the only band name that I will mention, I promise.

Another general rule: before I get into the musical categories, I need to touch base on singing along. The sing-along is always acceptable, but only if you are not stopped at any traffic lights, if you know all of the words for the part you are attempting to sing and, most importantly, only if no one can actually see or hear you. Violating this rule gives onlookers the right to ridicule and honk. If there are multiple people in the vehicle, the Sing-Along is only permitted if everyone can and does sing along. No one likes a showboat.

Final general rule: if you have been pulled over by Highway or even Regular Police, do not have any music on. Humming a tune is also frowned upon.

Now, let’s get into the categories.

Rap and Hip Hop is probably the most saturated category of music in the world of blisteringly loud vehicle output. You will look like a real phoney unless you adhere to the following rules. This type of music may only be played in vehicles with completely tinted windows, including the windshield, and that have either a bad muffler, or one that is purposefully and obnoxiously loud. If your vehicle does not meet these requirements, then you may only blast this type of music on Saturday or Sunday mornings, between the hours of 8 a.m. and 11 a.m. Outside of these hours, you will look like a complete jackass, no matter how many people are crammed into your vehicle.

‘60s and ‘70s era of Funk, R&B and Soul should always be turned up past the fifty percent mark on your vehicular stereo. While blasting this type of music, you should avoid highways and always take the back roads, even if it takes a little longer. The only time it is permitted to have the volume lower than the fifty percent mark is if you are engaging in some form of make-out session or sexual activity inside your vehicle, at which point, you should lower it to enable yourself to hear the approaching pedestrians or police sirens. More modern and later era R&B should follow the same guidelines as those designated for Rap and Hip Hop.

All forms of Islands music or Caribbean music, especially partying music, must always be played at high volume, but only in convertible vehicles, or vehicles that can’t fit in regular sized parking spots, due to their excessive width or length. This includes RVs or vehicles towing something else like a boat. Come to think of it, apply all these same Island rules to any upbeat music that uses bongos.

Techno and any other forms of Ambient Electronic Dance or Lounge music may be used any time, but can only be played full tilt if you own a Honda sedan or hatchback. In rare cases, certain models of Acura will be accepted as well. The more modifications made to the vehicle, the more useless junk added onto it, and the more random accessories found all over it, the louder you are permitted to play your music, and the faster you are allowed to drive. Fast and, dare I say, furious.

Pop Groups, Boy Bands, Children’s Albums and Television or Film Soundtracks popular among the Tweens and Teens may be played loud only in Mini-Vans and mid-size SUVs, and only during regular work or school hours. There should be a small to medium sized dog of some kind in the vehicle, and having the windows open will gain you extra street cred. You must drive no faster than the posted speed limits and even, if possible, up to ten kilometers below them. If you are on a road with more than one lane, be in the rightmost lane, but hover slightly into the lane to your left from time to time. Stick your hand out the window sometimes to signal people to "go around" you.

Pop-Punk, most “Alt” rock from the ‘90s up until today and all this new “Emo” music the kids are talking about can only be blasted in your vehicle if you are currently looking for a spot in a mall parking lot, or are driving past a hilarious wacky and funny t-shirt store. If you break this rule, pedestrians have the right to throw eggs and yogurt at you.

Heavy Metal, Death Metal, Black Metal, Power Metal, Metal Core, Grind Core, Thrash, Goth, Doom and the like (pretty much all things dark, metal or scary) should only be played at high volume starting at the summer solstice, and ending at winter solstice. The day on which you blast the music must be a darker day than the preceding day. Otherwise it would be a grave misuse of your metal library, and may cause your four tires to blow out simultaneously. Certain Progressive Rock albums may also fall into this category if the subject matter is gloomy enough, however, remember, never turn off the engine if you are only half-way through any concept album. You must stay seated in your parked vehicle until the album finishes. Disregard these rules for all Pick-up Trucks, SUVs and Mini-Vans. These vehicles are never permitted to play these types of music loudly.

Really Underground Rock and Punk from the ‘80s-‘90s or up until today, early Punk stuff, early or even later Hardcore stuff, most Underground Garage bands, or your favorite local act that no one has ever heard of may be sonically exploded out of your speakers and towards the public at any hour, any day, and any time of the year. The only catch is that your windows must be fully open. If you can’t handle this in the winter, then you’d best wait until the spring, or grow a pair. This type of musical announcing will be most appreciated in the urban scenester environment, but may also gain you approval in certain suburbanite milieus. If you have a bumper sticker of a band on your vehicle, you may never play their music in your vehicle, no matter the volume. This is similar to the “don’t wear the shirt of the band you’re going to see” rule, uttered by Jeremy Piven to Jon Favreau in the ‘90s campus cult classic PCU.

Classic rock from the ‘60s or ‘70s can be turned to the max for highway driving only and, please take note, that the use of the vehicle's Air Conditioning is forbidden. If you are warm and sweaty, you may open your windows. Singing along is highly encouraged, but if your windows are open, be ready for potential bug swallowing. Popular music from the ‘80s and ‘90s can be played full blast only if the band playing turned out to be a “One Hit Wonder”, and you have turned off the vehicle's Heat. Let the ‘80s and ’90s easy cheesy charm and heat warm you up.

Modern Country music, or New Country, should never be played in any vehicle, at any time, at any volume. It is important to follow this guideline, and I should remind you that, in certain extreme cases, playing New Country too loudly, while driving, has caused vehicles to suddenly explode. The same rule applies for most New Age or “World” music, except that if played too loudly, the driver themselves may explode, rather than the vehicle. Older Country music, as well as very early Rock'n'Roll and RockaBilly is acceptable at any volume but only if driving a Pick-Up truck and only if you are driving in the Wild West, otherwise the pedestrians around you may explode. It is up to you to figure out if you are not in the Wild West. You can do so by watching for exploding pedestrians.

Soft Rock, or “Sunday Music”, can be played only at medium or low volume, and never on Sundays. Be careful not to turn it up too much since, in certain extreme cases, Soft Rock played at high volume has caused vehicles and their drivers to slowly melt into a big ol' mellow mushy pile.

The Blues can only be played loud if you're driving the vehicle off of a cliff.

Jazz can be played loud whenever, by whomever, and in any type of vehicle, but only if the driver of the vehicle has written a ten page essay explaining why this particular album or song or artist is genius.

Talk radio, Comedy albums, Lounge Singer Acts or Novelty bands may never be played loudly and should only be listened to at a reasonable volume. You may laugh as loud as you wish at any time. You should do so with your windows closed. However, if you are stuck in traffic, you may open the windows and raise the volume slightly. While we are on the subject of traffic, music may never be played at full volume in a traffic jam, no matter the category.

During any leap year, on February 29th or during the opening ceremony of the Summer Olympics, you are permitted to completely assault everyone with horrifyingly loud Classical Music. Outside of these two events, you may never turn up the volume on Classical Music beyond ten percent of the vehicle’s maximum volume.

If your vehicle only has a Cassette player, you still must apply all of the above rules, but you are permitted to yell at other drivers to get out of your way. You forfeit this right if you hook up an MP3 or CD player with one of those nifty tape adaptors. If you don’t even have Cassette capability, and all you have is an AM/FM radio, then you still must follow the rules, however you are allowed to ask pedestrians for change. This does not apply to rental trucks.

If your vehicle is more than twenty years old, then absolutely none of the above rules apply. You get a free pass and are permitted to play any music as loud as you see fit anytime and anywhere, and can even sing along with the windows open, and all of this at a crowded red traffic light. You can make your own rules. Just try and remember that if the vehicle is old and beat up enough, turning up the radio too loud may cause the brakes to fail or the hood to fly off.

Sometimes it's good to leave the stereo off and enjoy the sounds of the highway. Let yourself drift away into the gumdrop dreams and memories of simpler times, as you slowly fall asleep, hypnotized by the serene repetition of the dotted lines, only to be woken up and startled by the loud lawnmower noise of the shoulder grooves, and your wife screaming.

Scream. Swerve. Radio on. Volume up. Sing along.

That’s it. I think you're ready for the road test.

Paper or Plastic? Neither.

Where I am from, they have begun eliminating paper/plastic bags completely from all grocery stores. You must bring your own reusable bags from home, or pay extra money to get plastic bags to carry your groceries in. I don’t know if they have begun taking this green initiative where you are from, so I felt it was important to fill you in.

And begin.

I’m getting a little sick of the reusable bag craze. I know we’re all trying to save the planet, but I’ve had enough. It seems like any event you go to, whether a career fair, festival, marathon, or whatever, they are throwing reusable bags at you. Even when you go shopping at certain stores in the mall, if you spend enough money, they give you a reusable bag.

“Oh gee, you spent over two dollars, here take this bag. It’s great for the grocery store, or packing a lunch. Oh, also it’s free advertising for us, but that’s not what we care about, we care about the planet earth.”

How is it great for lunches? These reusable bags are gigantic. It would be great for packing a lunch if you were eating a rack of lamb, maybe. But lamb is a supper food. In theory, it’s nice to receive free shit, but I already have about seventeen thousand of these bags that I bought at the grocery store, right when they first started featuring those coat racks of bags near the checkout.

“Hey those nifty reusable bags are on sale, I’ll get some more, you can never have too many.”

Actually you can, and now I do. Do you?

The first thing you need to do is find other uses for the bags. Unless you’re buying enough groceries to feed a moderate sized army, you’ll never need all seventeen thousand bags at once in one trip to the grocery store. You can’t throw any of them away either, because, that’s not being very green at all. So, put them to good use. There is a whole array of reusable items you can create using the reusable bags.

Staple a bunch together to make reusable curtains or a quilt. Shove newspaper in one and staple it shut to make a reusable cushion. Nail them to your wall as reusable posters. Fill one full of rocks and make a reusable weapon. Don’t bother with paper towels, J-cloths or Sham-wows ever again, since, you guessed it, they can double as reusable wiper things. It is not advised, however, to follow this theory with reusable Kleenex or toilet paper. Cut out the bottom of the bag and turn it sideways, and there you have it: a reusable tankini-top. Think of the possibilities: reusable pants, reusable belts, even reusable neckties! And you’ll be making a statement, publicly declaring that you clearly have a green seamstress thumb. But be careful when creating reusable fashion, as a pair of reusable underwear is only good for a few days before you’ll get a reusable rash. The same goes for reusable socks, with reusable athlete’s foot. And what you do behind closed doors is your business, but you must always remember that reusable condoms can lead to reusable herpes, or even reusable babies.

Regardless of how many of these bags I have in my household, I never remember to bring a single one of them to the grocery store, even with the reusable curtains and bedspread serving as constant reminders. Has this happened to you yet? You’re walking in to the grocery store and you look over at the other consumers heading in.

“Say, those people already have bags.” He pauses briefly and thinks for a moment. “FUCK!”

To turn around, get back in your car, drive home, get the bags and drive back, defeats the entire eco-friendly purpose of the reusable bags. But unless your last name is Rockefeller, paying five cents for a plastic bag just seems like a luxury that we commoners can’t afford. So, it’s time for some creative shopping.

Your first step is to aim for food with handles. Buckets of corn oil, jugs of cranberry juice or Sunny D, box of Diet Pepsi cans, or even those little plastic containers with the barbecued chickens and the built-in cardboard handles on top, are all good choices and great ways to cover some of your basic nutritional needs. To ensure that you always get your necessary daily nutrients, make sure to cover the four essential handle-food groups: Buckets, Jugs, Boxes and Random Things with Built-In Handles.

If you can’t fulfill all of your grocery needs with the above mentioned groups, grab a big frozen pizza box from the freezer aisle and start balancing stuff on it like a serving tray. When you go out and serve up a tray of groceries to your car, you’ll feel like you work in one of those cool new roller skating waiter or waitress type restaurants like I've only read about on T.V. It’s also very important to remember that frozen pizza can also be eaten, but only if cooked.

If all of these techniques have been attempted, and you still find yourself with loose articles of food, your next course of action should be to take bags from the produce section. They have giant rolls of free bags, and you can take as many as you want. It’s not illegal. No one is watching to see if you take them and then actually put apples or pears in them. Nowhere does it say, “Only use these for produce, not to store your groceries at checkout”. Even so, you’ll probably get one of these real hippy cashiers named Jeff, or Dwayne, or Cheyenne, or Coco-Puff, who will give you a real suspicious look and ask you real sternly if you took those bags from the produce section. Be prepared for this, don’t let it stop you, and say what I say.

“Fuck you! I bought a whole mess of fruit last week and now I’m reusing. I’m doing my part, Dwayne.”

That will shut him up. He might even throw in a scared and embarrassed “Good for you” if your performance was solid enough.

The weight limit on these bags is low, with a capacity of only two or three cans of Manwich. Quite possibly, your groceries are too heavy duty, and the thin and clear produce bags will not suffice. Well there is one final technique that I like to apply in this case. You must be sure to have some rope in your trunk at all times. Throw all of your groceries back into your cart at the checkout line, after paying for them, of course. After all, you’re not a criminal. But let it be a no-bag free-for-all in your cart. Now take the cart out to your car, take the rope out of the trunk, tie your cart to the roof of your car and take your groceries home. It’s foolproof. You don’t even need to worry about that little device on the wheel of the cart that locks it at a certain distance from the store. Your car is doing all the necessary wheeling. If you’re worried about losing food along the way, don’t worry too much. Think of all the money you saved on not paying for those expensive plastic bags. If you are really hell-bent on keeping all of your food, wrap a big tarp around the top of the cart, sealing everything inside like leftovers on a plate in the fridge. This is good for rainy days as well.

Afterwards, because of the wheel locking device, as well as the elemental damage from the drive, the cart is not at all reusable, so after you’ve unloaded all of your groceries into your home, dump the cart, preferably in a lake, field or forest. If it's one of those old-school carts in which you had to deposit a quarter, or for some reason you insist on trying to reuse it, simply leave it strapped to your car roof and reuse it next time you go to the grocery store. This works best with most sedans and hatchbacks, however if you have a van, truck or SUV, you probably won’t be able to maneuver through the aisles very easily.

I guess another idea is to, instead of leaving rope and tarp in your trunk, leave some reusable bags in there. But that seems like an awful lot of work. Honestly, who has time to think about that kind of stuff?

That’s it. Remember the four R’s: recycle, reuse, and rinse, repeat.