I’m single. I’ve been single for nearly a year. Yes, I’ve dated to a very minor degree this past year, but nothing serious. Right now I’m in a dating chasm. I am not looking to get
out of it, but being in the chasm is a drag. The upside is I save lots of money and I haven’t had a disagreement with anyone for months. Well, I almost had one with the chick I
was dating last. You know things aren’t going to last when you say her name wrong. It was a hard name to start off with, okay? Adriana was her name, but I accidentally
called her Andrea — once — during a Guy Lapse. If you’re a guy, you know what The Guy Lapse is. You know you know something, but you just can’t recall it correctly. All of those
sports trivia tidbits and alternate routes to Astroworld stored in my brain sometimes cloud things up.
Of course, she was pissed at me. I tried to mention the guy lapse, but the Harris County Order of the Sacred Y Chromosome has sworn us all to secrecy. Instead, I told her
my alzheimers was flaring up again. She didn’t buy it.


There is a very bad show on HBO
called ”The Mind of a Married Man” and it’s all about this middle aged guy who is the biggest jerk on the earth to his wife. He lies to her on a regular basis. He doesn’t cheat, but
I have the feeling the entire premise of this show is about a combination of that temptation and big giant lies. It’s like ”Sex In The City” only without the sex and cheating. They left the lying in. I guess that’s
good if you like that kind of suspense. I prefer the suspense where you know you have to get the DeLorean up to 88 MPH and hit the wire across the clock tower at exactly
10:04 PM on November 12th, 1955 so you can go back to 1985 and make out with your girlfriend Jennifer again. Or something like that. I may still watch this show, however,
because they throw in gratuitous nudity and they get to cuss. Nothing beats gratuitous nudity (except maybe the unbearable thought of my mom participating in gratuitous
nudity). Eek.


They should have a test they give everyone in the U.S. about whether or not sending your best friend a letter sprinkled with baby powder is funny or not. We could round up
all of the people who fail the test and put them in their own town: Stupidville. They would be barred from travel outside the Stupidville city limits, except in cases of dire emergency or
when medical attention is needed. Trust me, you don’t want open heart surgery at the Lady of Our Bleeding Big Toe Stupidville Hospital. If you need a bandaid to cover that
thumb you broke while shadow boxing yourself, or if you need an eyepatch to hide the fact you hide the fact that you lost out on a game of Catch The Flying Fork, the Stupidville
Hospital is the place to go.


This weekend and next weekend will stink because AirTran changed my flight departure time on Sunday (as I’ve mentioned before). I will be in town for 37 hours. I won’t
be sleeping on Saturday night because there is no way I will finish all the things I have to do. If you are reading this and it is the middle of the night on Sunday, October
28th, give me a call. I’m awake. I get the number 37 because daylight savings time goes away that evening, blessing me with an extra hour. I always wondered if clubs close at
2 AM on those nights, or do they stay open because the time changes at 1:59 A.M. and goes back to 1:00 AM again? There used to be a free time service in Houston. I still
remember the number. 713-844-7171. They changed it to 713-222-7171 in the late 70’s. I called up at 2 AM exactly when the time was changing one year, and the
automated recording was in a funk and giving out two times at once. For some reason I thought this meant that all clocks on the earth were also having a hard time
figuring out what time it was. ”I’m a clock, I’m so confused.” Hmmm. Maybe I shouldn’t be sharing this. I don’t want to get my ass thrown into Stupidville based on a past
infraction.


For the record, I am Batman. Deal with it.