It may have been a Monday or a Tuesday when I walked into briefing, looked out over the collection of clean, shiny faces and began shouting profanities at them about every small thing that came to mind. A call we were on together, a wrinkle in their uniform, their report writing, etc. When I could think of nothing else, I noticed several open mouths and more than a few tearful eyes. I realized that I had never raised my voice to them before.

“I’ve got to go,” is all that I could think to say.

It would be irresponsible for me to constantly dispense unarguably sound dating advice without also making our female readers aware of some of the dangers involved. In order to drive this point home, Wordsmoker, in partnership with Brinks Broadview Home Security, has prepared some realistic scenarios involving much better looking individuals than I’ve ever seen in real life. Because these training videos are specifically geared towards female viewers, I’ve also included some dating tips for men that may vaguely relate to each video.

On my most memorable Purim, I was nineteen years old, living in and attending a Jerusalem-based seminary, and dressed up as a devil. Not a sexy devil, mind you–this was Purim, not that slutty pagan holiday you gentiles call Halloween–but one dressed in a red knee-length skirt and matching three-quarter-sleeved shirt, a pair of the four-inch platform hooker boots that were the only acceptable footwear at my high school, and the whole token horns/tail/pitchfork set.

sunless morning
watch the rain fall
the silver maple branches
reach out
their thin ethereal phalanges
to grasp
the liquid pearls
and cradle
the droplets
that cling
ever so gently
before letting go
unattached

Do you know her? I would really like to find her. Because apparently, that bitch gave out my phone number as her own, and now I keep getting collections calls for her. I’ve been through this once before. When I first got my phone service in August, I got about 10 automated calls a day from collectors for different people. I always called the numbers back to tell them I was not the person they were looking for, and to take me off their list.

My daughter recently participated in a living museum. It is a part of her third grade social studies agenda.

Students are allowed to represent anyone they want, either living or deceased, as long as they have a book about them in the library. The list to choose from is essential endless. It is a really interesting program. The students stand like statues, with a “button” placed on them. Then students or parents can “hit” the button and the statue begins to talk about the person they are.

Do you like things that are funny? Do you like sexy [animated] bodies? Do you like the fact that Lucille Bluth, Kitty, and Dr. Spaceman all voice characters on the same show? Then watch this, dammit! FX, Thursday nights at 10. (And also available on Hulu.) You will thank me profusely.

I don’t remember the song. I had never heard it before and don’t recall if I’ve heard it since. It was playing over the sound system of a restaurant at which I was dining with a friend of mine. She was a nurse by trade.

Nurse: “Do you like this song?”

Chill: “I don’t recall ever hearing it before.”

Nurse: “Really? It’s on everywhere. I love it. Music is my life.”

Chill: “Your life? Don’t you have like four children?”

Nurse: “Asshole.”

We had some friends over this weekend and somehow began discussing the show “Hoarders.” Since we don’t have real cable, I’ve only heard of this fascinating program, and am afraid of two outcomes if I ever get a glimpse of the show:

A) I will go into a cleaning frenzy and end up donating/throwing away everything to obtain that uber-chic minimalist style that look so nice in magazines,

(Because Wordsmoker Octavius Vane is a man with access to the internet, he watches pornography. To alleviate some of the stigma associated with viewing porn, and to also make it somehow healthier than it actually is in his own mind, he’s decided to write reviews of some things he sees with his dirty internet box. If you like this, he promises to do more. Article is Not Safe For Work, for obvious reasons. Ed.)

A long time ago, in an internet far far away, there was once a place called (yes, I’ll say the name out loud! I’m not scared of you, Voldemort NickAlan! The cash fan-shaped scar between my eyebrows is proof enough of my valor, thank you very much!) Gawker. I used to hang out there all the time, like many of you and unlike many others of you. At one time, it was a Big Fucking Deal that one its past editors left and was subsequently maligned and then became embroiled in an imbroglio revolving around things like “oversharing,” “narcissism,” “betrayal,” and (after the parsing became exhausting), over-performed internet “yawn”-ing by studiously disinterested interested observers.

In other words, it was a typical internet contretemps; indeed, at the time, it struck me as maybe an archetypical one. Why did I care? Why did anyone? To answer these questions, I did what any self-respecting internet citizen does – I wrote an unreadably long, meanderingly idiosyncratic post about it on my completely unread blogspot-powered personal blog!

Washington drew to a standstill today and there was an unofficial minute’s silence as news filtered through about the continued existence of Former Vice President Dick Cheney. Many staffers were seen weeping openly on the street, while a swollen-eyed Rahm Emanuel asked for calm from all involved in the administration. A tired, almost haunted-looking President Obama hurriedly addressed the nation in a short speech shown on all channels.

HAHA! Some excellent news to gladden your hearts as you eat into your rat sandwich before you go to sleep in your car – Wall Street bonuses are over $20bn this year, so go back to watching American Idol and be happy you’re not washing your face in grit, everyone. The super-rich just got richer. Remember them? The ones we propped up with our money when times got bad? Them.

Last week, Virginia Delegate Bob Marshall (R-Manassas) said the following:

“The number of children who are born subsequent to a first abortion with handicaps has increased dramatically. Why? Because when you abort the first born of any, nature takes its vengeance on the subsequent children.”

My Buyer was traveling to Las Vegas for the Furniture Market. The group was staying at Planet Hollywood. About Monday afternoon, I receive an e-mail complete with photos of my Buyer’s hotel room.

“I’m in the Baywatch room. Memorabilia is everywhere. There’s even an autographed pair of David Hasselhoff’s shorts hanging on the wall.”