Top 5 signs that I REALLY need a girlfriend.

5) Going to work on "casual Friday" wearing my favorite pair of sweatpants; the ones with the strategically placed hole in the back.

4) My hard drive has become a cornucopia of porn-oooh-topia!

3) I'm now able to lift small, European cars with my right hand.



2) Fantasizing about Erin, that hot cartoon redhead from the Esurance commercials.




1) Uncomfortably working the word "fingering" into random conversations.

Cars with too many bumper stickers

I always get a weird, queasy feeling when I find myself stuck behind a car that has way too many bumper stickers on it.

I always get the sense that the person driving that car is just hanging out on top of the 'crazy motherfucker' bubble waiting for it to pop. He's probably one sarcastic remark away from going on a city wide shooting spree and taking out everybody at his job, at his home, at the park, at the zoo and at the local Dennys.

To the little girl at the fatburger I went to last night...I'm sorry!

On the way home from hanging out with some friends, I decided to stop off at my local Fatburger for my bacon and egg sandwich fix. I'm a really impatient person. I hate waiting for anything... I glare at people who pay with a check at the market... I wish bad things on people who linger in the drive-thru after they've gotten their shit.. LEAVE, already, you asshat!

Anyway, because I'm really impatient, I like to call ahead for things. I should have done that last night. Oh, regret, why do you haunt me?

I drove past the Fatburger, made an illegal U-turn, then went back 'cause I decided I wanted some food. I place my order and immediately start to get irritated because I know my wait will be, at least, 10 minutes. I find an empty booth, sit down and pretend to be interested in what's on TV. It's some Spanish novella type soap opera, so, my irritation level began to increase exponentially. I'm bored out of my mind, hungry and irritated. Yay, I have to pee! I can kill
a good 2 - 3 minutes doing that, so I thought.

I get up to go use the Fatburger restroom. (Note: If this were a movie, this is where the creepy music would get really loud, and the scene might be in slow motion.)

As I pushed the door open, the aroma from the restroom wafted up and did a triple salcow/double toe loop combination around my head. I was slightly disoriented and in a daze. I stood there with watery eyes as thoughts of Brian Boitano swirled in my head... then quietly pulled the restroom door closed, and groggily walked back to my booth.

I whipped out my phone and sent a mass text. It simply read: 'Oh my fuckin god, some bitch just killed the Fatburger bathroom!!' As I was sitting there LOL'ing to the responses I got from my text message, I barely noticed a little girl moving very quickly towards the restroom.

First of all, why the fuck do kids move so quick? I hate that!

Anyway, Marion Jones, Jr. made her way to the restroom before I could stop her. I would've warned her about the evil smell in that room, but, she was too quick for me to stop her.

A nano second after opening the door, Marion Jones, Jr. comes sprinting out of the restroom, her nose and mouth covered by both of her hands.

So, to the little girl at the Fatburger I went to last night.. I'm sorry! Really, I am.