Do you guys have that binder or folder or stack of papers in an old trunk at home labeled the “Oh Man, That’s Embarrassing” file? Old writing, from back when you were young and infinitely more adept at seeing the beauty of a perfectly worn pair of Doc Martens or a perfectly placed “fuck” in a poem that defined all that is wrong with the world? Maybe it’s called your “Goddamned Phonies” File.

It could have been last night or twenty years ago. Many of us get queasy just thinking about the liquor (not that we dislike) that made us so ill in the past. You know, the type of booze that lent itself to the land of the lost and we never could drink it again.

Some of us have a list. We will call it booze here because those drinks we can’t stomach need a cheap title. Whether it’s liquor, hooch, or happy hour; no matter how fine the liquid is or was it will never touch our lips again.

Remember when you were a kid and you thought $7 was expensive? And then we all had to grow up and realize that everything’s expensive? Well, fellow Wordsmokers: we’re about to hit the Jackpot. A lottery jackpot. What would you do with the winnings? Take a year off and travel the world? Pay off your student loans? Buy a giant tub of Jell-O and hold daily wrestling matches at your mansion on Alcatraz Island? For this post, I’m going to say the amount you won is infinite, so as not to limit anyone’s monetary dreams. Taxes are already paid.

Of course, most of the Prince catalogue falls into this category, but we need to go beyond the Tiny Purple One.  Not just songs that get you in the mood, not the foreplay ones, the “I need to grind up against a complete stranger right now” songs.  I made a mix of such mood music to help me write the sex montage in the script I am working on, but kept having to skip ahead when iTunes hit a “mood” song rather than a “fuck me now” one.  So I’d love to solicit the Wordsmoker community for some new ones for when I need to rewrite.

Oh hello. I’m still working on the beige shitbox computer so I’ll be quick before the smoke starts billowing from the vents again. Have you heard of Justin Bieber? I have. Well, my Bieber knowledge extends to the fact that I once saw him walking into a glass door. That’s it. I am aware, though, that he gets young ladies moist and maybe makes them practice kissing on their pillows or arms.

I think he sings.

Isn’t technology wonderful? I mean – who cares about landing Betty White on Mars in 2018, or curing the cancer that is Charlie Sheen. No – what we want from technology is ground-breaking shit like electric collars for your cat which then Tweets what the cat is doing to Twitter so other cats can read what the cat is doing and maybe Tweet back a lolcat and all the cats will laugh. Shoulders of giants, everyone. Well – shoulders of giant cats, more likely. Do cats have shoulders?

Urgh. I’m ill today, and because I’m a male it’s even worse for me. Other males will agree. I’ve been lying in bed (surprise) with a hot water bottle at my tummy (sexy) listening to early Ricky Gervais radio shows on my headphones, ignoring the cats and moaning occasionally (again – sexy).

Oh did you hear the science thing today? That the scientist man has created a fully artificial lifeform (not to be confused with Lindsay Lohan, who has a formless life) and now the gates of SCIENCE are wide open for anyone to create anything using the basic ingredients of life which are cheese, concrete and the insides of Ecstasy tablets you bought from a 14 year old boy with a speech impediment outside a bar. Now that The Scientific Gates Of Lohan are open to everyone, I think it’s a good time to start planning our own lifeforms – even before we make any sort of down-payment.

Washington D.C. — As those of you who are my Facebook friends know (if you chose to read my updates), I’m on assignment in Washington D.C., though my “official purpose” is to attend Police Week. If you’re imagining thousands of cops, 90% of whom are morbidly obese, walking around with their tee shirts tucked into their cargo shorts and wearing fanny packs, you’re pretty much nailing the experience. It’s a fat moustache paradise in the nation’s capital this week.

Summer is on our doorstep, and that means travel. Mr. Marshmueller and I are serving the airline industry an Official Notice to Go Fuck Themsleves, and are traveling only by car for our multitude of trips this year. Not only is packing everything we need on the list, but so is coming up with the perfect playlist for being on the road. We have our favorites, but we’re thirsty for some new tunes.

Do you read books? You know – the papery things that Steve Jobs is trying to kill off between waterboarding Gizmodo editors? I’ve read a few in my time. I actually worked in a library for an undisclosed number of years, and let me tell you – libraries are fucking full of them! Well – they were when I worked there, now it’s probably all Wii Cooking games and flat panel monitor boxes you can search Amazon with because your local library doesn’t have a copy of Emily Gould’s latest “And Alan Said Whatevs”. I digress – I was having a serious editorial meeting with Intern Strawbs, and for some reason “Chicken Soup For The Soul” cropped up – a book distinguished in my experience as being the only tome I’ve literally thrown across the room in anger.

Oh hai! In between swooping in like a pre-emptive angel of death and killing innocent multiple-child-bearing commenters with great vengeance and furious anger over future crimes, I also like to enjoy other things, like books, movies and getting stoned then masturbating like a monkey in a lab. Stroking it while high and rattling my virtual cage, well – we’ll come to that some other day, because it’s what Jesus would’ve wanted and Easter is not a time to be talking about getting your rocks off HAHAHA EASTER JOKE WIN.

In honor of my corporate Rock Band competition (yes, we are total nerds), I wanna know:

If you had a band, what would its name be?

Hey, America – did you notice that thing that happened yesterday? That’s right – THE RISE OF NATIONAL SOCIALISM IS ON THE RISE AND IS RISING BECAUSE A KENYAN NAZI DECIDED IT WAS TIME TO RAPE TEH CONSTITUTION AND EXTEND HEALTH-CARE COVERAGE TO APPROXIMATELY 30 MILLION OF YOUR FELLOW CITIZENS BEFORE HE ROUNDS THEM UP AND GASSES THEM IN DEATH PANEL TRUCKS NEVER FORGET!!! the health-care reform bill was passed in the Senate.

Well – it’s raining here, the cats are sleeping off a ‘nip party last night (they pretend they’re Irish when it suits them) and for some reason all the damned sparrows are going nuts in the garden, like something out of Stephen King novel SHUT UP YOU LITTLE BASTARDS I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF TYPE. Because of this confluence of disconnected events, I decided to enter my kitchen solely for the purpose of constructing a banana sandwich.