A recent visit to the information super-highway held an unforeseen and disconcerting destination. When the pop-up window promised the enlightenment of understanding what guys were really saying, I scoffed at the author’s ambition to exploit the insecurities of the ladies. Unfortunately, a minor guffaw caused an intellectual derailment as I soon fell prey to the lure of the snake oil. Generally, heterosexual males have trouble harvesting an honest damn about what other men are thinking, but what if, by reading the article, I could gain an insight as to what women thought I was saying.

Matt stood at the corner of Hill and 7th, in the middle of a torrential downpour, staring at the “Don't Walk” sign at the opposite end of the crosswalk. “Hill and 7th has to be one of the longest red lights in the entire world,” he thought to himself. He wished for a break in the nonstop stream of traffic so that he could sprint across the street and go home. His house was directly across from him; he would be inside in no time. If only the light would change.

The phone rang.
I answered, "Keith Raymond, Cat Dentist."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. The sound of screaming was suddenly drowned out by the staccato of machine guns blazing in the near sunset of oblivion.
I sorted through my mail. Something caught my eye: a postcard. No stamp, bad handwriting. It all came back to me in a blind, overwhelming plea for help, in one rotten, sewage-soaked, festering second.
Years ago, I had been with The Agency, and I alone had solved the infamous “Hard Candy Vampire” case. Could it be? If so, how?

I knew that I must be growing up when I realized tonight that I had a bowl of Kix and didn't put any sugar on it! And the other day, I actually ate a bowl of All-Bran! Plain! No sugar, no fruit! What am I, 60? Most people would probably think that these things aren't really that big a deal, but let me explain myself: Since I flew out of the womb, I've eaten about 4000 pounds of sugar. In middle school, I used to buy Kool-Aid packets and mix the powder with a cup of sugar in a plastic bag, and then just eat it raw throughout the day.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, and my heart was in the right place. First I wished for lasting world peace, and then for the end of war.
Finally, I said, “I want to live forever.”
“Fine,” replied the genie.

SWF, 20-something, smoker, recovering from drinking problem, likes hip-hop, dogs, jazz, beaches, weird movies, reading, over-analyzing every situation, giving back rubs, sports, and eggs Benedict SEEKING SWM, late 20’s, tall, blonde, blue collar, enjoys receiving back rubs, making me eggs Benedict, returning my weird movies, being over-analyzed, and arguing sports.
Call soon, as I have two movies way past due at Blockbuster and am craving eggs Benedict!

The first girl I ever loved was not pretty. Not even remotely. She was extremely tall and lanky, and her ears protruded from her head like the handles on a trophy. Her eyes were diminutive, secretive pits hidden beneath a heavy brow. And her nose was long and broad like that of a puppy. Though I was far from impressed with her visage, we were both embarrassments to our peers and came from your typical poor white trash families, giving us more than enough in common to facilitate a friendship.

[3] SEEING THE LIGHT
And so I had somehow managed to end up living with my grandma and working at an elementary school. Needless to say, I was sucked dry of all feelings. I couldn't even hate properly anymore, and that's the easiest thing to do. I just dangled for many months in milky irritation, becoming nauseous every time someone waved and said, "Hey! How's it goin'?" I ignored all efforts of people to socialize and I was, in the truest sense of the word, sick of life.

Some of the coolest toys in my personal collection have come from a movie I'm sure most of you haven't even heard of. Shame on you, for I speak of one of the greatest animated films of our time: The Iron Giant; a little tale about a young boy named Hogarth who, while growing up in the delightful glow of the atomic age of the late ‘50s, finds a 100-foot robot in his backyard. And boy, the antics ensue. Yes, it’s a wonderful movie that spawned some sweet-ass collectables. My favorite of which has to be the Ultimate Giant talking action figure.