November 17, 2009
9:24 A.M.
Went through security at the airport about an hour ago.  Got picked for additional searching.  Must’ve thought I had sand or something.  What made me really mad about it was that they didn’t do anything about the guy in front of me who looked like someone who would definitely bring sand on a plane.  I’m not usually for stereotyping, but come on, the guy’s got sand!

November 17, 2009
9:28 A.M.
Watching the news as I wait for my plane to board.  Looks like Obama’s sending more troops to Iraq.  Good idea, still a lot of sand over there.

November 17, 2009
9:36 A.M.
Plane’s boarding now.  Just checked the departures to make sure I was still going to Tokyo and not Sand.  It’s still Tokyo.

November 17, 2009
9:53 A.M.
Usually I get nervous when I get on planes, but I’m pretty relaxed this time knowing that I’m right next to the emergency exit door.  If anything goes wrong I’ll be out of this bitch way before it’s filled with sand.

November 17, 2009
9:55 A.M.
Sand guy from security just sat down next to me.  Says his name is Brian and he’s from San Diego.  Really Brian?  Are you sure your name isn’t Ahmed and you aren’t from wherever the fuck you’re going to take us after you murder the pilots with all that sand in your pockets?

November 17, 2009
10:00 A.M.
Taking off now.  Flight attendants telling us to turn off all of our electronic devices.  Luckily my expert sand awareness doesn’t require batteries.  Too bad for Brian it also doesn’t require remorse.

November 17, 2009
10:24 A.M.
Just flew over a beach.  ”Hey sand!  Eat shit!”

November 17, 2009
10:37 A.M.
We’re watching “The Big Bang Theory” on the plane.  This show is a hoot!  Brian’s reading a book.  What’s wrong Brian?  They don’t let you watch TV in Afghanistan?

November 17, 2009
10:49 A.M.
Howard is my favorite character.

November 17, 2009
11:12 A.M.
Flight attendant just asked what I wanted to drink.  Thought she was cute so I decided to flirt with her.  ”I’ll have a sand.  Just kidding, water will be fine.”  She chuckled a bit.  That’s right baby, I got a million of em’.

November 17, 2009
12:09 P.M.
Flight’s getting a little bumpy.  They started another episode of “The Big Bang Theory.”  Still hate sand.

November 17, 2009
12:14 P.M.
Something’s wrong with the plane, and people are starting to scream.  I’ve been contemplating getting up and reassuring everyone that there’s absolutely no sand on the plane.  I know they won’t believe it though.  Hell, I know I don’t.

November 17, 2009
12:19 P.M.
We crashed…in a desert.  Unfortunately I’m alive.  Everyone else is dead, including Brian.  ”Where’s your book now?!”  I yelled that before I wrote it down.

November 17, 2009
3:08 P.M. 
Yelled at the sand for a while.  Gotta let it know who’s boss.

November 17, 2009
3:11 P.M.
This may be hell.  I’m not sure.  I know it’s not heaven because Brian’s not here.

November 17, 2009
4:09 P.M.
Saw an armadillo.  He gave me this look like, “Yeah, tell me about it!”  Then he hissed.  Didn’t know they did that.  Thought they barked.

November 17, 2009
4:51 P.M.
Wishing we got to finish that episode of “Big Bang.”  If I ever get out of here I’m buying those DVD’s.

November 17, 2009
6:02 P.M.
Seriously, way too much sand out here.

November 17, 2009
7:41 P.M.
I can’t go on.  I’ve decided to end this on my terms and not let the sand have it’s way.  I need to die an honorable death.

November 17, 2009
7:52 P.M.
I’ve decided to headbutt the next armadillo I find until my brain explodes.

November 17, 2009
8:14 P.M.
This will be my last journal entry.  I’ve found a ‘dillo that looks like he means business.  The only thing I want to carry on in my legacy is my undying love for my family and friends.  Also, I have a slight distaste for sand.

November 17, 2009
8:16 P.M.
Didn’t work as planned.  The armadillo’s barking very loudly.

END OF JOURNAL

Hey guys me again, the spider that reviews movies.  I’m back with some reviews that are going to knock your spider squashing boots off!  I wish I could start this entry out with a better introduction but my lifespan is only one year so lets just jump right in!

Where The Wild Things Are

This movie sucked harder than someone trying to save one of my many victims.  It is about a human boy that meets a bear and a goat and they dance and sleep.  Hey human boy, here’s a question:  Did you check where you were stomping when you were dancing?  Didn’t think so.  You’re a dead man.

I give this movie eight bristly legs down.

Goodfellas

This movie spans thirty years in the life of a human angry man.  That is thirty spider lifetimes.  This movie gets points because there is a human man in it named “Spider.”  It loses points because instead of becoming the patriarch of the angry men he died while trying to give water to the little angry man.  Water…a spider’s natural foe.  There were a lot of hats in this movie.

I give this movie four bristly legs up and four bristly legs down.

Baby’s Day Out

What is a baby?

I give this movie two bristly limbs up and six bristly limbs down.

A Bug’s Life

Probably my favorite documentary.  A lot of amazing footage.  Humans might find this boring, and in their boredom they might fall asleep.  In a human’s lifetime they eat an average of six spiders in their sleep.  There were no hats in this one.

I give this movie eight bristly limbs up.

The Rug In The Living Room

Watched this for a while.  Might not be a movie.

I give this movie one bristly limb up and seven bristly limbs down.

These are my reviews.  I hope they helped you out.  I’ve wasted my life.

So college is alright, I think we can all agree with that, but with the job market in the shape it’s in I’m beginning to rethink this endeavor.  Why waste all this money to prepare for a career that isn’t going to be available when I graduate?  How can any of us know what our futures hold?  Needless to say, I took this semester’s tuition and gave it to a fortune teller named Quebecca to tell me about mine.  She yelled “You’ve been foolish with your money and will soon pay for it with your blood!”  Then she started laughing maniacally.

After months of reading ancient Gypsy scripture I was able to loosely translate her gutter speak to “Mini golf is the wave Ratt of the future.”  I thought it was just crazy talk until I read on to learn that the use of maniacal laughter negates any 80’s hair metal band (as long as it was formed by Stephen Pearcy).  Revised translation: “Mini golf is the wave of the future.”  Ratt was the band. 

Looks like I’m makin’ me a golf course!  I’ve got to be careful though, I can’t just throw a bunch of windmills on a shit load of Easter grass and call it a day.  Originality is the second name of the game (the first name being mini golf) and I’ve got to play my cards right.  Wait, no.  Gotta think golf.  I’ve got to play my PARds right!  This is my calling!

Course Idea Number One:  PUTT IN TAR NATION?!

Most golf courses are a nice escape from reality.  The Medieval and Outer Space themes are good fun but they’re so overdone.  And let’s be honest, we never see their dark sides.  Have you ever been to a Medieval Golf course and been raped by barbarians or gotten the plague?  Have you ever been to a Space Golf course and been raped by space barbarians or gotten space plague?  Exactly.  Let’s make these alternate realities REAL.

At Putt In Tar Nation?! you will golf in the year 3012, when the country is covered in tar (ttar if the living members of Ratt are visiting.)  We at PITN have never heard of “themes” only reality.  After you pay your entrance fee of eight virgin cat heads (only five for kids and seniors!) you will be stripped of all clothing and set loose on our course.  Unless you are a senior.  If you are a senior you will be killed.  At this point I will remind your family that we did not ask for the future to be like this and your cat heads are non-refundable.  I don’t want to give away much more about the course as the discovery is just as fun as the extra cat heads you’ll find strewn across the vast wasteland.  Whoops!  There I go again!

Course Idea Number Two: Charles Par-Win!

Travel to an exotic locale with wildlife you’ve never seen before!  Most of them extremely deadly.  Free admission if your name is Charles Parwin!  Half off if you are Charles Darwin.

Also be advised that one of the ball colors you can select is actually a venomous bird. Here’s a hint, it changes color.

READ PART ONE FIRST

An elderly woman slowly makes her way to the podium.  She is softly weeping and carrying a bag of 30 red Solo cups.

Janice

“Hello Martin’s friends and lovers, my name is Janice and I am the late Martin’s grandmother.  First and foremost, I have brought the Solo cups you mentioned in the voicemail you left me about Martin’s passing.”

“Sasquatch” snatches the cups from Janice’s withered hands as only the great “Quatch” could.  He and three of the other pallbearers start setting up a game of beer pong on Martin’s casket.  ”Sasquatch” mentions that he has transformed from a pallbearer to a ball bearer.  The bro’s respond with laughter for the most part, but “Quick Draw,” the wisest of the brothers, responds with an incomparable “that’s what she said.”  ”Quatch’s” thunder will not be heard tonight, as “Quick Draw” has made off with it.  As the pongers return to their preparation, Janice returns to her monologue.

“My grandson was a sweetie, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t like fun.  As I’m sure many of you ladies know, he could really cause a ruckus on the dance floor.  I remember the first time I saw him put the feet on the old Sally was back in 1938.  The war had just ended and we decided to celebrate by going to our old hickory house: The Tired Spoon up on Fifth and York.  The moment we stepped in the joint all eyes were on us.  I grabbed his cold metal hands and whispered in his ear, “Write me through the summer months!”  We started shakin’ what we had, which at the time was dogs!  Oh boy did those dogs get riled!  As you may have guessed by now, leash laws were far less-“

Martin’s father and several police officers enter through the back doors of the tool shed where the ceremony is being held.  The police immediately secure the casket.  ”Quick Draw” informs the officers that they are dressed for the wrong theme party.  He receives a high five from “Sasquatch.”  The two are immediately shot with tasers.  Mr. Helton pushes Janice out of the way and takes the stage.

Mr. Helton

“Firstly, this is not my son’s grandmother.  Secondly, this is Eli Whitney’s casket.  Finally, you are all going to jail for a very, very long time.”

The room quickly clears, bro’s first and then ho’s (respectfully).  As the police drag “Quick Draw” and “Sasquatch” away, the latter’s eyes open.  He frantically looks around the room, head rushing and heart pounding.  Then he sees it.  He sees his “hodium” sign, still proudly displayed.  ”Quatch” lets out a gentle grin.

For God is on his side.

Minister

“Welcome, everyone, to the funeral of Martin Helton.  ”Repo” to his bro’s, “disappointment” to his parents, Martin lived a chill life.  Born in Camden, New Jersey, a young Mr. Helton found pleasure in some of the more unimportant things in life.  Reading, writing, and philosophy, though deemed “retarded” by most scientists, were Martin’s earlier obsessions.  This would all change though, when Repo picked up his first brew.”

The bro’s of the reception cheer, followed (respectfully) by the ho’s. 

Repo’s boy “Sasquatch” steps up to the podium.  He carries with him a sign that says “hodium” and slaps it on the front of the podium.  The bro’s high five, the ho’s acknowledge the pun.

“Sasquatch”

“Sup.  As you all know, “Repo” was my first and probably favorite bro.  The streets of Camden raised us, as it’s raised so many other bright stars of this great blue sky we call Earth.  Let’s get to the point here, I was the first person to call “Repo” a fag.  I remember it as if it were the Kappa cookout…which is to say I don’t remember it at all.  His dad told me I set fire to most of his books, so I guess that happened.  His mom said I took his journals and gave them to Scotty Fish, this dude we knew that yelled stuff, so I guess that happened too.  What I’m getting at is this, I single handedly turned our boy into the poon plower we all knew.”

The ho’s look to one another.  They all know they were totally plowed.

“Anygay, I handed our boy a beer at the tender age of 12 and made him chug that shit.  After he pounded his first cold one, he looked at me with those soft brown eyes and said, ‘Sasquatch, don’t I have to be 21 to do this?  I’m only 12.’  I, the great “Quatch” cleverly retorted, “Then let’s flip them numbers up!”  And made him chug another Natty as I held him upside down from his ankles.  As I held those shaking corduroy covered limbs I didn’t just remember my dad said he’d beat my ass if I took more than one of his beers, I had also made a lifelong friend.”

As “Sasquatch” solemnly leaves the podium, he points at the “hodium” sign to make sure no one missed it.  The bro’s in the reception look to see if any of them are crying yet, as the first one to shed a tear will be forced to wear a shirt that reads “I Heart Cock” for a week.  None of the brothers show any sign.  The ho’s however are completely drenched in tears, they all love cock.

End Of Part One.

Friends, there is no easy way to say this so I’m just going to type it.  I have contracted swine flu.  The doctors have given me a solid prognosis and say I should be dead in about 82 years.  DAMN THIS CRUEL DISEASE!  As I obviously need to preserve these precious final moments and dedicate them to living life at it’s fullest, I will now write out my final wishes.

Wish #1

I want to be buried inside another, larger body.  Yeah I know it’s a little weird but…no, I just think you’re overreacting that’s all.  Seriously stop screaming.  HEY I’M THE ONE DYING HERE!  Fine, Jesus…

Wish #1

I want to have a conversation with a cake.  Why?  Don’t worry about it.  And yes, I’m “aware” that this it’s not possible yet (with the exception of the Talking Cake of Madagascar, but I don’t have nearly enough Sheckles to be allowed in his presence by the natives) but that’s why I’m giving you guys a heads up.  82 years.  Tick tock.

Wish #2

I want a shirt that makes sassy comments about my pants.  For instance, I am walking through a field in the rain and I get mud on my jeans.  My shirt wittily replies: “That’s why they call em’ jeans and not cleans!  Know what I’m sayin’?!”  I know EXACTLY what you’re sayin’ shirt.

Wish #3

I want to shave a gorilla.  Wouldn’t it look weird?!

Wish #4

I want to be able to defend myself against gorillas.

Wsh #5

I want to throw a baby and have it be perfectly fine.  No, fuck that.  I want the baby to be better.  I want to pick up a sick, miserable baby, throw it through a plaster wall and have it be in tip top shape.  “Tip top shape?  More like tip TOT shape!  Ya feel me?!”  Thanks shirt!

Those are all the wishes I can currently wish.  Maybe more later?  I’m not sure.

You guys, wonderful news.  As I was writing this article my doctor called me and told me I actually don’t have swine flu.  What I have is actually “meningitis.”  Phew, I guess I’ll be around for a while.

Recently I’ve gotten into the website twitter.com.  Twitter is basically a site people use to write short little updates like “Josh is about to murder Steve” and “Steve is wondering why Josh is in his house.”  Pretty much just a facebook status. 

Let me make this clear, I do not use twitter and I’m pretty sure I never will.  This is my main draw to it: celebrities use twitter.  They write stupid blurbs about their everyday lives so their fans can all read them and say to themselves “Wow, he’s just like me!” as they wait for their Tombstone Pizzas to finish cooking.  I admit saying that makes me kind of a hypocrite because I follow a few comedians on it BUT MOVING ON.  I could care less about what 99% of these celebrities are doing (David Lynch gives his fans weather reports…I am not joking) what I really like is that it shows me how celebrities write.  And guess what?  A lot of my assumptions were fucking co-rect.

Xzibit A

At 2:44 PM on March 24 Ashton Kutcher wrote this:
in other canadian news the bull semen was actually used 2 lubricate the release of the dolfin http://tinyurl.com/d7arun

First of all DO NOT TRY TO FIND OUT WHAT HE’S TALKING ABOUT.  All you will find is misery.

Secondly, really Ashton?  Dolfin?  You are a married 31 year old man raising children and you can’t spell dolphin?  And to make matters worse, you linked an article you “read” where they FUCKING SPELLED DOLPHIN OVER AND OVER AGAIN!  Too bad there isn’t a number pronounced “dolphin” because you could just take the easy way out like you did with the word “to.”  And don’t say “I did it because it takes 2 much time 2 write 2 out.”  You did it because you don’t know how to spell “dolphin.”  You probably think you spelled “Punk’d” right too.  Whoever taught you you can make a conjunction out of one word should be dragge’d ou’t int’o th’e stree’t an’d murdere’d.

…Oh I just can’t stay mad you, those soft brown eyes…

Xzibit B

At 6:31 AM on March 21 Chris “Ludacris” Bridges wrote this:
DAILY QUOTE: We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore, is not an act but a habit.—Aristotle

Kinda nice right?  This is the very next entry written at 5:51 AM March 22.

LUUUUUDDDDAAAA! What’s good Twitterville? Are ya’ll enjoying the weekend?

I’ll be honest, Ludacris’ twitter is really, really fun to read and I don’t even want to bad mouth it.  It’s like he’s some sort of superhero that lives a double life.  One day he’s a mild mannered actor that like’s copying and pasting quotes then the next day he becomes…well…Ludacris.  He also talks about drinking a shot of Xango juice daily.  Xango claims to benefit the body in numerous ways including preventing cancer.  It has not been tested thoroughly by the FDA.  My point?  Hurry up and read Ludacris’ twitter while he’s still Ludaliving.

Xzibit C (and a personal favorite)


Yeah, he’s got one.

At 8:28 AM on March 26th Shaquille O’Neal wrote this:
Its freezn n portland, schwlbbbbb schlwbbbb dats da lip shiver sound

Alright, Shaq is out of his mind.  BUT, you really have to take into consideration the fact that his fingers are as big as laptops.  When Shaq wants to write something I’m sure it must take a long time.  In fact it was probably January when he started typing it.  One month spent typing the first part, another month spent deliberating how to put into words the sound his lips make when they shiver, and most of March finishing the entry.  The one thing that stands out about Shaq (other than the fact that he is huge and insane) is that he’s very vocal with his fans.  He spends more time getting back to them than he spends writing his own little gems.  In fact, in one entry he writes this:

Anybody in portland touches me rt now will get two tickets I’m at redstar cafe

That’s right, if you touch Shaq he will give you free tickets to a game!  How great would it be to not even have read that and just high five shaq on the street?  He turns around, winks at you, and gives you two tickets to his game WITHOUT EVEN EXPLAINING WHY then walks away.  You’d think you did something remarkable.  And you did, you high fived Shaquille O’Neal.  Congratulations on being 20 feet tall.

To finish this I’m just going to leave three replies Shaq has given to his fans based on a comment they left him.  Interpret them as you will.

Reply to anniboat:
yea I did I thought dat was gum
Reply to badsantajc:
I remember u I whooped dat ass lol u wanted to fight me lol and I ran
Reply to AllStarNinja
sure u were poopsie cakes

I have a friend who has this “problem.”  There is a girl that likes him and therefore will do anything and everything for him.  Anything my friend even mentions, she’ll go do it just like that.  He likes her too, but he doesn’t really know if he should make a move or not.  Now, I haven’t had the opportunity to share my advice with him yet, but I think it’s obvious what I need to tell him his situation will eventually boil down to:

Slave or Girlfriend?

In weighing the pros and cons of Slaves and Girlfriends, the first thing I encountered were legal matters.  Apparently, slavery has been illegal for a long time.  Girlfriends on the other hand range from being legal to VERY illegal depending on their age/species/vitality.  You know, legal mumbo jumbo.  This being said, I think we all know which team gets the point here…

POINT SLAVES!

Slaves: 1
Girlfriends: 0

Let’s face it, everything that’s illegal is fun.  It’s a simple equation really:
ILLEGAL = FUN
LEGAL= STUPID, HAS PERIODS

Underage drinking is fun, gambling is even better, and insider trading?  Yeah, it’s the shit.   Stopping at stop signs?  Dumb.  Jury duty?  Boring.  Outsider trading?  UGH!  If I wanted to go somewhere where I had to follow laws I’d get at the end of a conga line of judges.

If a man wants to raise a family, he’s going to need to work.  You know that, I know that, there’s nothing to debate here.  However, long days and long nights can take their toll on aforementioned man, and that’s where his significant other comes in.  Our patriarch gets hungry, and his fair maiden/filthy slave must prepare him a meal to eat.  While our hypothetical hero finishes his meal, let me stuff your face with this:

POINT SLAVES!

Slaves: 2
Girlfriends: 0

As a firm believer in women’s rights I feel like I can kill two birds with one stone by saying this: women are exquisite creatures that make great meals, but slaves win.  The fact of the matter is this, slaves GROW food.  When your girlfriend runs out of food in the fridge guess what you’ll be eating?  Nothing, because that is all she has.  If your slave can’t kill any more of your neighbor’s chickens without him noticing, there’s no need to fret, your slave will get something he’s planted in the fields (or kill your neighbor).  Sure, your girlfriend could go to the grocery store but if you let her drive you know there’s only a 50% chance she’ll make it there alive, let alone back.  Of course she could ride your slave there, but this is a case of one or the other.

Now it’s time to turn that light above your head off and get frisky.  Intimacy.  Way too many factors here: weight proportions, overall attraction, vagina to no vagina ratios, etc.  I can’t even pretend to debate this one, the answer is quite simple.

POINT SLAVES!

I know what you’re thinking, ”But sex with women is great and sex with slaves is awful!”  I completely agree, but there is one key factor that gives slaves the edge.  Slaves say the word ”boss.”  It’s always “sure thing boss” this and “well of course boss” that with them.  They love it!  And so do I!  How would you feel rolling off your glistening slaves body at first?  Terrible right?  You break down, life has become a twisted game of stealing chickens, murdering neighbors, and fucking slaves.  That’s when you hear them, those four words that make everything better: “I love you boss.”  Suddenly the world is beautiful, and so is this six foot four minority you’ve decided to start sharing a bed with for some reason.  Plus girls do that thing when they snore.  Yeah, THAT thing.

Listen, I’m not going to tell you how to live you life.  The best I can do is to educate you on the issues and try to tell you how to live your life.

Get a slave.

Nicholas II
Turn Ons - Medals
Turn Offs - Jews

Nicholas II ruled Russia for a solid 22 years but his hit single “Kiev’n up the Place” only reigned over the motherland’s pop charts for a mere seven weeks in the summer of 1896.  Shown above in his bathing suit, Nicholas was one of the more power-thirsty Russian czars.  Almost daily he warned his servants that if they didn’t find him grenades that when detonated turned his hands into claws he would “just get crazy up in here.”  Nicholas was also a fan of brunettes and cranberry juice.

Died: July 17, 1918 (Grenade)

Hammurabi
Turn Ons - Standing/Sitting Sideways
Turn Offs - Whoever that other guy is

Hammurabi was the first king of the Babylonian Empire.  YAWN.  Way to go Hammurabi.  Loser.

Died: Who cares (Lost a fight to a girl)


Bill Pullman
Turn Ons - Saving the World
Turn Offs - Alien Shields

Finally a man worth noting.  While FDR may have worked with the rest of Europe to defeat the Nazi’s over a series of years, Bill Pullman saved the WORLD from ALIENS in FOUR DAYS!  WHAT?!  President Pullman needed to pull out all the stops to save this great orb we call Earth.  He fired his secretary of defense Mr. Nimzicki in what can only be described as a pulse pounding scene, he passionately roared “Get em’ outta there!” when he saw planes blowing up, and he even FOUGHT the aliens!  WHAT?!  Yes.  He got in a jet, and FOUGHT the aliens.  Remember?  The other guy was like “Uhh, Mr. President? LOL.” and my boy B. Pull was like “fuck it” and FOUGHT THE ALIENS.  Eat your heart out Hammurabi.  FOUR DAYS.

Died: Legends can’t be killed.

Winston Churchill
Turn Ons - England I guess…
Turn Offs - Stuff

Winston Churchill…uhh…Winston liked ties.  Every morning Winston would wake up and…find his wife or something and say to her “Where’s my tie?”  She would say to him “Your tie?”  And this transaction would…go on…four days.  I’m sorry, FOR days.  England was bad, then he made it good.  I mean, he didn’t fight or anything.  He just sat around and signed junk.  Plus he was on an island, the nazi’s had to use boats.  Aliens have spaceships.  They just don’t give a fuck.  How many people died in World War II?  Like a couple thousand?  I’ve got one word for you Winston.

BOOM.  You know where you’d be if you were president when THAT shit happened?  In the lincoln bedroom with Hammurabi getting your ass lit up.  “Oy!  Hammurabi!  I believe there are ale-ay-ens out thaya! Crikey!”  That’s totally what you’d say.  But you know what?  Those would be your last words because that fat ass laser would come right through your British head and rock your world.  No politics.  No negotiations.  Big.  Green.  Lasers.  Oh, what’s that?  You’re afraid?  Well don’t worry, I’ve got just the man for you.

Died: July 2 (Laser)

Following in the footsteps of great men and Matthew Plowman, I have decided to make a Tumblr.  My name is Chris.

This is where I will share with you my deepest thoughts.  You will hear about foods I like, animals I have seen, and most importantly, movies I think are totally gay.

Let’s get this shaux on the rauxd.

I own, ride around town, and lock up nightly one of the things in this picture, and it’s not the bike.  I’ve been looking into getting a bike recently as it would make getting around Chicago much easier and annoyingly windier.  Not necessarily a bike like this woman has wisely chosen to invest in but pretty much anything will do.  Now even though there seem to be numerous reasons to get a bike, I’m starting to realize there are almost just as many against it.  Being someone that likes numbers and the periods that follow them when they are put in list form, I have decided to write out the pros and cons.

PROS

1. Chicks dig dudes with legs.  Riding a bike is the best way to let them know about mine.
2. Fart whenever I want.
3. Mad wheeliez. 
4. Pink basket, the unsung hero of the modern bike.
5. Trick it out like in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.  I would get into so many HYSTERICAL situations!
6. Ability to flatten very thin people.
7. Being able to take off a motorcycle helmet every time I enter a room.  Oh, I would wear a motorcycle helmet.
8. Making bike buddies and talking about bike stuff that only bike guys understand.  “Wow man, nice handlebars!”
9. When people ask if I’m wearing NIKE’s I can tell them I am wearing BIKE’s.  They will LOVE that.
10. It would do wonders for my asian slave’s back.

CONS

1. Death.

Well look at that, clearly the pros outnumber the cons.  Looks like I’m getting a bike.  You’re welcome Kim-Yee!