One time, I described the notion of having sex with one of my roommates to those times when you get shit smeared on your fingers.

My daughter has very good manners, so she rarely uses bad language, but still, I've told her that "shit" is the proper word. I say to her, "What do they call other words, my little daffodil?" and she shouts, "Minced oaths!"

Please. She has a husband and I'm sure he gives her an allowance.

Then you're a white chick.

Let's take some pictures, boys.

That may be why I don't have any (real) kids. I had a roommate who had a stepdaughter and he used to sing songs to her about using her trainer potty, which was in the main room of the house. I moved out a few months later.

People will stop laughing at the end of "The Crimson Permanent Assurance."

A friend of mine is an amateur boxer who looks a lot like Miles Teller. Later this week, he wants me to help train for his next fight on Saturday, so I'm going to put on a padded vest and bully him with a 2'x4' pad and tell him he's nothing but a bootleg John Cusack and the guy they get when they want to get Miles…

They even have a function where if you see a girl whose body is hot, they'll recommend similar girls!

The word is "shit." Not "poop" or "feces" or even "crap." My imaginary daughter has impeccable manners, and even she knows the proper word is "shit," and that she'll get away with saying it if she looks cute while doing it.

It's the same thinking that produced Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory.

I don't quite remember who my h.s. valedictorian was. He might have been the guy who played the lead in South Pacific and came out in college (he was not the only person in that production to come out during college).

"I'd slide that wad right on to my father. After all, he happens to be one of the top brokers in the state."

As a Public Service Announcement, I present…Boobpedia.

I did spend a half hour with Dean's cousin, who showed me where "Jimmy" wrote his name in initials and talked about his memories of him. I think he was an early teenager when Dean died.

I read "surprisingly big boobs" and immediately scrolled up to confirm that the picture did not, unfortunately, show her boobs.

Let me guess…middle school magazine sales?

A nice alternative breakfast is to get some English muffins, toast them, add a thick slice of tomato, a couple of cut slices of bacon, and a slice of cheese, then bake that for a couple of minutes.

I heard the song played at the grocery store last month and was able to recite all the lyrics.

I visited James Dean's grave once. People had chipped off bits of it. I think the headstone might have been stolen at least once.