A few months ago I got a fortune - no lie - that said:

You are the crispy noodle in the vegetarian salad of life

What the fuck!?

I am still trying to figure out the fortune. Last night I was out eating Chinese (food) with some friends and friends of friends. At the end of the meal when it came time for all of us to read our fortunes out loud and in all of our stupidly awkward responses we go either "Oooh good one..." [as if the fortune is perfect for him/her OR we go "Aaah" [with a slight nod and squint of an eye or two as if the fortune put everyone in deep thought].

I don't even wanna talk about the idiots that still have to blurt out the stupid addage "in bed" at the end their fortunes. It was funny in High School and UN-like farts it is no longer funny. I, for some reason, get consistently rediculous fortunes. Forget about the "You like Chinese Food" one or "You have the ability to find humor in everything that makes you laugh" [??]. On the VERY rare occasion I'll get an unbelievable fortune like, "Your talents will be greatly rewarded" Or "You will soon come into good fortune" [as if the Chinese somehow knew I was experiencing a string of bad luck]. The great ones I keep either in my wallet or on my refridgerator thinking that is the only way the fortune will eventually come true. And if you throw it out or lose it, well tough luck. The fortune becomes obsolete. I still have a fortune that I got when I was 9 years old that said, "You will be rich and famous, engage in many amazing sexual conquests and you will die a legend." In case it doesn't happen I will ask to be buried with this fortune and the original cookie it came in. I'd like to bring it to God or Budda or whoever the supreme being is and voice my first complaint - "What gives?" I have a feeling he'll say, "Oops! That fortune was supposed to make it's way to River Phoenix but the Chinese Restaurant, Mai Mai Yum Yum in LA closed down and reopened in Central Jersey."

So back to my original point. I told everyone at the table about the "Crispy noodle" fortune I got and none of them believed me. Well being the neurotic fuck that I am, I busted it out of my wallet and passed it around for proof and asked if anyone had any insight. No one could figure it out. They were all stumped. Everyone making absurd guesses to its meaning. "Hmmmm...'You - are - the - crispy noodle - in the - vegetarian - salad - of life' ? Wow!"

We even called over a Chinese waiter to help us decipher this fortune. I figured, he's Chinese, [excuse me, ASIAN] and we assumed he was a professional. A professional what I have no idea but a professional. Some of my best friends are Asian and I don't mean to sound racist, because I am not, but somehow all the Asians that I know personally seem to have a natural wisdom and serenity about them. I gave up the notion that they all know Karate because that would make me a disgusting racist fuck.

So the waiter looks at it, studies it, contemplates it, sniffs it, holds it up to the light, whips out a laser light pen and a #2 Pencil and does the Lithmus Configuration on it. He scans it, wipes his ass with it and finally puts it under a blue spy light. He looks at all of us. He looks really really REALLY ashamed. He is stumped.

So maybe it's one of those rhetorical fortunes like , "Always listen to the sound of one hand clapping."

Or better yet, "He who eats crackers in bed gets crummy [crumby] sleep."

Or EVEN better yet, "Virginity is like balloon. One prick, all gone."

The Chinese waiter then comes back to our table with a bit of excitement exclaiming that it just dawned on him that he knows a highly enlightened monk living alone atop of a mountain in Tibet. I was told that if I ventured up that mountain and endured all of Mother Nature's elements, it would be him and ONLY him that could impart his knowledge, wisdom, and meaning behind this mysterious fortune.

I am Jewish. I love the Chinese and their food, but I hate the cold, and all of Mother Nature's elements. Climbing mountains? Nah, I'll just stick to escalators and stairs.

But I am curious and determined to seek meaning so in all my New York glory I just asked for the monk's cell phone number.

The waiter said I could try his cell but he gets real bad reception up there. Damn!

Posted by Todd Wall at 2:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So this should be fun. I took an Ambien (the best sleeping remedy EVER) not too long ago and decided to write just to see if drugs can answer the age old question we all would love to know. Does drugs enhance creativity or create stupidity? I don't know. This may be the funniest blog ever or the stupidest blog ever. You can decide. I am just going to randomly write what comes to mind and maybe as you are reading will decide at which point in this blog does the drug actually kick in.

So let's have some fun, shall we?

I will eventually turn some of these blogs into a one-man-show that will either be called "The Common Man's Dilemma" or just simply "Monoblogs!" I tried to set up a 1-900 voting system (like for American Idol) for all of you to vote on the title but it turns out it simply costs too much to charge you.

What exactly is Febreze??

My friend must have Feng Shui-ed his apartment correctly because the very next day he won a $10,000.00 NY Post lottery, booked 2 TV pilots, one for NBC and one for ABC both of which got picked up for the fall season so he will be famous shortly, and after that wonderful phone call from his agent he went to get a tuna avacado sandwich at the diner and it was there that he met the woman that he is now engaged to and got pregnant with twins (GO Sperm!!)

I must have Feng Shui'ed my apartment all wrong because the next morning my agent called and decided to drop me from their roster, so no more auditions as an actor. I lost the powerball lottery and as a result from identity theft some asshole cleaned out my bank account. As a result of being flat broke, my superficial girlfriend dumped me for the asshole above who Feng Shui'd his apartment correctly. There really must be something to this Feng Shui shit. Time to put red candles in my love corner, take down the mirrors on my ceiling above my bed and put them in the bathroom with the running water from the broken toilet tank. I will put purple in the living room because that will summon Prince to make a big comeback. What the hell am I talking about. I don't know and I don't care.

All women seem to have tv's the size of an iPod LCD screen and all men seem to have tv's the size of a fucking Lowe's Movie Theater screen. Let's not even talk about the sound system.

I hate Halloween. I never know what to do. It's a lose lose for me. If I dress up I feel like a dick. But...If I don't dress up, I STILL feel like a dick. What gives!?

My therapist has a rule that if I don't cancel a session in less than seven days advanced notice I still have to pay for the session I cancelled even though I am not there. No joke. So I told her that if SHE cancel's without that kind of advanced notice she has to solve all my problems for that particular week during the following session.

I would love to see a real mouse fight a computer mouse in a cage and see who wins. The first primative "Flesh vs. Machine" test.

Speaking of which. I wonder if Laboratory mice warn each other that pretty much everything that's given to them causes cancer. Fuck the mice. Let those rodents die so I can live longer. In fact I wouldn't mind living long enough to see the extinction of rodents and bugs.

It's funny to watch bugs bug each other. They probably call each other "pests" and whatnot. Teasing each other, "Hey 30 eyes, you're a freak!" or "Your mama's such a slut she had 12,000 babies from 30 different males."

Sneakers are perfect for long range walking.

If I had a dime for everytime I lost a dime...umm...shit. I don't know.

Why are nose boogers funnier than eye boogars?? Wanna hear something really really gross. There was a time when I was so broke I could only afford used toilet paper. Gross.

But at least I got Febreze.

I'd like to use this moment to give a big ol' FUCK YOU! to the MTA.

This blog sucks!

Being a guy can suck. The energy, the time, the frivilous dinners and conversations for such a length time just to get a little action. For one week, I want to travel to a planet where all the females are simply hot disease-free sluts who can't procreate. I think that's the real male fantasy. So any female reading this, get ready to hate.

A girl once said that she had a fantasy of being rescued by a man on the ski slopes. She actually had this dream that after she would take a big spill on a double black diamond expert ski slope - some gorgeous skiier would swoop in, pick her up and they'd ski down the mountain together and elope in the ski lodge. Well, naturally I wanted to impress with my own ski slope heroics:

My response to her was this:

Funny you should mention that because I rescued many a fallen woman on the ski slopes. They were all over 60 years old. I helped all of them to their feet. So, you can consider me a hero of sorts. Actually, maybe not since I felt obligated. You see I was the one that knocked them all over in the first place. I am very reckless on the Bunny Slope. I seemed to have made a sport out of snow plowing over old ladies on Bunny Slopes in various ski resorts across the nation. My last incident occured in Snowbird, Utah. Woman was named Edith. Oh, that Edith, what a character. She was holding on for dear life to the tow rope as I snow plowed into her. I was going 1 1/2 miles per hour at a force of -2G's. We both got tangled in the tow rope together. I held on to the wire of her pace maker with my left hand and grabbed hold of her colostomy bag with my right. I did a quick drop, tuck and roll holding on to her and we both escaped from the Rope's wrath. I helped her up. Brushed off the snow, wiped the tears from her eyes, kissed her on the cheek, and quickly snow plowed down the 20 foot hill, popped off my skis, and did my awkward ski boot walk to the lodge and relaxed with some hot chocolate as I reflected on my day's heroics.

As you can pretty much guess the girl looked at me and rolled her eyes. I then said, "Wait! There's more!" I got up and turned around and blew a fart in her face. As she started to walk away briskly I yelled out, "Can I get your number!?"

O.k. I am having sleepy eyes so it's time for the beddy byes.

Creativity or Stupidity? You decide.

Goodnight!

Posted by Todd Wall at 12:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I just got back from a Pizza Hut audition this morning. Here's what happened.

This girl and I were called into a room together to play husband and wife. She was cute. From L.A. Very cute. We look at each other and immediately recognize each other from somewhere but can't seem to place where, when and how.

Girl: I know I met you somewhere. You look real familiar.

Me: Yeah. You look familiar too.

[and we both stare at each other for a few seconds with a blank inquisitive look].

The Casting Director interrupts our little moment to give us our directions for the audition. It was cute and funny and we worked well together. We leave and while we are waiting for the elevator we still try to place how we know each other.

Girl: Do you do improv?

Me: No. Well not professionally, only in my everyday life.

Girl: [She laughs]. Oh you mean like right now? [we both laugh]

Then we ask about various commercial auditions we may have seen each other on but we can't place it. So we continue small talk as we ride the elevator down. Of course, "man" mode kicks in and in the deep dark trenches of my mind I hear that drill seargant voice saying, "Get her number, Private! Get her number!"

[oh, who am I kidding. this isn't in the deep dark trenches of my mind. It's actually right in the forefront of my mind! It's practically imprinted on my forehead!]

Anyway, I ignore the voice for now and figure I'll get a contact number when we say goodbye downstairs. So as we are exiting the building I ask her what made her just up and leave LA to come to New York or some dumb question like that, but before the whole question even escapes my mouth she suddenly increases her speed (remember the Kingda Ka blog?) and jumps ahead of me with an arm stretched out to hail a cab. As she hails her cab she turns her head and says, "Sorry but I have to catch a cab to work!" As she gets in and without turning around she shouts, "It was nice meeting you!"

My eyes widen, my jaw drops, and I stand still for a moment with a total blank stare feeling rather schmucky. After a moment I shrug my shoulders, put on my headphones to my iPod, crank up the next song which happened to be "Ticket To Ride" by The Beatles and I start to head back to the Viacom building where I work.

Then a cab stops at the corner (the light was green by the way), it honks and the girl opens the car door and yells out to me, "You were in Lenny & Lou at 29th Street Rep!! That's how I know you! You were awesome!"

Wow. What a city. What a biz.

She closes the door of the stopped cab while a barage of horns start honking. The window rolls down and I even think she gave me a thumbs up and blew me a kiss but I don't know. I started to see spots. All I could hear is the drill seargant again shouting, "Private! Are you a Goddamned Pussy! Private!!? Wake up and get her number NOW Private before I rip out your eyes and skull fuck you!!!"

So as the cab pulls away I snap out of it for a sec and I shout, "WHAT'S YOUR EMAIL!!??"

[What's your EMAIL?] ??

Yes, I am a schmuck.

She sticks her head out of the window as the cab starts to pull away and I think she yelled it out to me but I couldn't hear. The cab starts to pick up spead and she shouts something again making undecipherable hand gestures at me out the window. But I simply couldn't hear her. She could have yelled out, "ImNotTellingYou@Don'tStalkMe.com!" I don't know. I just see the cab speeding further and further into the distance and just when you think I couldn't get any schmuckier - I loose ALL sensibility, ALL that is cool - and I blurted out, "Toddwall.tv! ToddWall.tv!! TODDWALL.TV!!!" At the top of my lungs.

Yup. That was the best I could do. That was all that came to my silly little head. Shouting out my website.

I am almost positive she didn't hear me but I can pretty much bet the rest of TIMES SQUARE did. Maybe even the people in the Abercrombie & Fitch store. Well maybe that's stretching it a bit.

Anyway, I finally came to. The spots I was seeing disappeared and I finally became aware of where I was and what I had just done. So I chuckle to myself as I shake my head in shame for the second time today and I shuffle back to work with the idea for my next blog pulsating in my head.

I don't know if I'll ever see this girl again. But hey, maybe I'll get more traffic to my website!

Goodnight!

Posted by Todd Wall at 11:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am told with the right clothes, I can actually look "sexy." I swear. I was told that. And my mom never lies.

So, my friend Howard and I were able to get a good deal at the Abercrombie & Fitch store. With our major Vegas trip coming up on July 4th weekend I decided to do the metro sexual thing and get some...sexy designer clothes. Sexy jeans that accentuate the crotch area, rounds out my butt and maybe low enough so my thong will show.

Kidding about the thong.

We walk into the store and I feel like I am in a freaking club...No, not a club, more like goddamn rave scene!! The music is blasting at ear piercing, glass shattering decibels! I look up at the ceiling thinking that soapy foam will start pouring out. Now I dig loud music as much as anyone but this volume takes "Loud" to a whole new level.

I turned to Howard and shouted, "I FORGOT TO TAKE ECSTASY!" and he shouted back, "DON'T WORRY, I AM SURE THEY HAVE SOME 'X' DOWNSTAIRS IN THE VIP SECTION!"

The sales people were young and looked like they were genetically engineered in a lab to human perfection. All of them so cosmetically blessed that everyone shopping around them, myself and Howard included, looked like a bunch of Cro-Magnons. The sales kids were hip-hop dancing and flirting with each other and secretly laughing at all the pre-historic beasts shopping around them trying to find clothes that will make them look a little more human. Or a little more like the Homo Abercrombus Fitcherectus that work the floors of each store.

I couldn't hear my own thoughts in the store. In order to protect my ears from the shitty music being blasted, I put my iPod on and tied a bandanna tightly around my head to secure the headphones tight against my eardrums and cranked it all the way up. Ah....Bliss.

But now the bass from the store's ten - 60 foot subwufers is so powerful that my organs started to jump, dance, and twist within me. Everything in the store was vibrating. Including the wooden floors. To the point when I didn't have to actually walk. I would just stand in place and ride the floor vibrations to whatever rack of clothes it took me to. Fun.

FINALLY, one of the sales models break danced up to me and asked if I needed help.

SALES MODEL: Do you need any help? [still dancing]

TODD: What!?

SALESMODEL: [putting my ear to her lips] DO YOU NEED ANY HELP!? [shaking her ass in my crotch]

TODD: WHAAAaaat!? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!

SALES MODEL: I SAID, "DO ---- YOU ---- NEED ---- HELP!?" [doing the macarena]

TODD: OH, YEAH! [doing the robot dance from the '80's] CAN YOU TURN THIS MUSIC DOWN A BIT OR AT LEAST LOWER THE BASS, MY ORGANS ARE VIBRATING SO MUCH THAT I THINK MY COLON SWALLOWED MY ESOPHOGUS! IT LOOKS LIKE THE WINDOWS ARE ABOUT TO SHATTER! PLEASE ---- LOWER ---- THE ---- MUSIC !!

SALES MODEL: I DON'T THINK WE CAN DO THAT. STORE POLICY!

TODD: OH! WELL THEN DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING IN THIS STORE THAT WILL STOP THE BLOOD FROM SHOOTING OUT OF MY FUCKING EARS?

SALES MODEL: [stops dancing, dumbfounded expression]

TODD: NEVERMIND, I'LL JUST GRAB THIS PRE-WRINKLED, PRE-TORN $79.00 T-SHIRT TO STOP THE BLEEDING! [I do it] THERE! NOW YOU CAN RE-SELL IT FOR AN ADDITIONAL $30.00 WITH FRESH BLOOD STAINS.

Isn't that amazing? There was a time when ripped jeans with stains were given away at the Salvation Army or sold at a ridiculously low-price in a K-Mart for the financially under privileged. NOW, at the clothing factory a team of people purposefully rips them, frays them, stains them, wrinkles them and ships them to the outlets TO BE SOLD FOR A REDICULOUS $150.00! How stupid are we as consumers that we are willing to pay top dollar for clothes that are already wrinkled, ripped, frayed and stained!

Imagine in the future. A BMW Automotive Plant, where a team of employees are beating the shit out of each car with baseball bats. Ripping off the bumpers, bashing in the windows, puncturing a few tires, blasting bullet holes into the vehicle with M16 rifles while the "creative" team of workers spray paints graffiti all over. Oh, let's not forget to top it off with a nice thin layer of bird shit on the roof and hood. Then they bring this newly beat up looking car to the BMW lots and sell it for $250,000.00!

CONSUMER: "Wow! Can't wait to show my friends how rugged I look in this purposefully beat up piece of shit of a brand name car!"

Alright. Now I'm pissed! Allow me to go off on a tangent with this "fucking-the-consumer" bullshit. There was also a time that if you got a cup of coffee that was cold you'd either send it back, or refuse to pay. Now they purposefully put ice in it and charge you $2.00 extra to MAKE IT COLD!? FUCK YOU!! You mean to tell me I have to pay more for you to put FREE ice in my coffee!? SUCK MY DICK!

So back to the Abercrombie and Fitch club. I grab a bunch of cool ripped up jeans and pre-wrinkled shirts and I hip-hop my ass into the dressing room. I try on the clothes, then I moonwalk my ass out of there and I bump and grind with the sales lady back to the register to fork over my life savings.

Did I mention the lighting is so freaking dim that you have no idea really what you are buying. After paying my $430.00 bill, I walked out of the store with 3 wrinkled blouses and 2 completely shredded low rise jeans that should be good for, oh, maybe a one time wearing before I am forced to use them as a makeshift mop for my fucking kitchen floor!

Note to the corporate jerkoffs at ABERCROMBIE AND FITCH: You are trying a little too damn hard to be ultra uber hip. Take it down a notch...or 10. And for crying out loud LOWER THE GODDAMNED MUSIC! I like loud music as much as the next person, but come on! And regarding your rediculous prices for pre-torn, pre-freyed, pre-wrinkled, pre-stained clothes, along with your useless modelly sales people: "FUCK YOU!"

Oops. You probably couldn't hear me over the stores' ear shattering crappy music so let me provide a visual:

Posted by Todd Wall at 10:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

So I went to Six Flags Great Adventure the other day with my roommate, Dylan and a Christian Youth Group. His.

Hey, I am still a Jew. And proud of it. It was just a great package deal. $30.00 for the theme park entrance AND the charter bus that took us to and fro. The two of us went for one purpose and one purpose only. To ride Kingda Ka. A roller coaster using the same technology on aircraft carriers' launch decks for fighter jets. You are launched horizontally at an acceleration from 0 - 128 miles per hour in 3.5 seconds at a force of 5 g's (that's 5 times the force of gravity) and once it reaches its top speed it shoots straight up into a vertical 3/4 turn 45 stories (455 ft.) high, losing it's momentum as it slowly arcs over a crescent and then gaining back its speed as it plunges vertically into a 270-degree (three-quarter) spiral straight back down to earth at over 120 mph.

While we were waiting for the bus to depart on Broadway and 51st, in the damp weather at 8:20 in the morning a super cute blonde, Sarah, who arranged the whole trip (and she did a fantastic job) initiated roll call. I was sitting with my roommate Dylan when she rattled off the list of names on the bus. She said, "When you hear your name called answer only with 'Here'."

Funny. There is always at least ONE clown that just has to yell out "Present!" I can't believe after 30 years of hearing roll call somehow "present" still gets a laugh from their peers.

So picture this - Sarah shouts,
"ROLL CALL!" [and begins]

"Chanelle ... Charmaine ... Shaniqua ... Tyrone ... Chantel ... Aisha ... Kaisha ... Luella ... Isaia ... Dylan ... LaTika ... Jesus [pronounced with an 'H'] ... Shaquil ... Precious ... Lucsious ... Aliyah ... Letanya ... Josiquez ... Froziquez ... Afroziquez ... Kya ... LaFonda ... Lucinda ... Croatshia ... Rashad ... Mya ... Lya ... Pants on Fya ... and Todd"

And we're off.

We get to the park. It starts to drizzle. We head straight to Kinda Ka. Everyone was quite roudy on line.

Watching this roller coaster take off at such a speed and velocity and then skyrocket on a 90 degree verticle climb was just simply frightening and...and...unnatural. So intimidating that not only were the people on the ride screaming, but the people in line were screaming as well. Everyone started to turn a little green. Some even left the line. I popped a Xanex. Actually two...and 1/2.

Two amazing things happened on the line. The first was, Dylan started talking to this very large, very ripped, tatoo laiden black man. He was one from the roudiest bunch on line. Now here I am just slightly bummed for reasons I do not know (maybe the Xanex just hasn't kicked in yet). Anyway, this man proceeds to tell us how he was incarcerated (we never found out why nor did we dare ask) for 10 years. Of course he lost his wife and kid to another man while in prison. He explained how he hit rock bottom. He didn't know if it was even possible for life to get any worse or any better. Then he found Jesus in prison and when he got out in 2002 he made a new life for himself. What blew me away about him was his peace of mind, his now gentle soul, and a look of happiness, purposefullness, and a love for humanity and life. Godbless him. He was a big, excuse me, a very big guy and if I were God, I'd certainly bless him too. Wouldn't want any problems in heaven.

The 2nd was once we got to the front of the line a couple kept looking at me and whispering. Naturally I checked my nose for any visible snot. None. Then they tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I was the guy who played Lou in Lenny & Lou in New York. I replied in shock that I was. And the two of them yelped and said how my performance and the play "changed them." That was their first play and they were absolutely floored. They happened to know the writer, Ian Cohen. It was this on top of the Xanex which just kicked in that put me in a natural/UNatural state of euphoria.

[ A bell rings]! Shit, the gate opened and it was time for us to board the coaster. My heart said a basic "Fuck You" to my Xanex and started to race uncontrollably. I haven't been on a roller coaster in several years. I climbed in and pulled the harness down over my head and buckled myself in. Tight. Really tight. My hands were shaking. Dylan was excited. I was a bit of a wreck. The techies do a quick check on everyone's harness and then a bell sounds again and our coaster leaves the docking station and coasts into position. We sit there for what feels like an eternity. I can see what looks like a a quarter mile of track in front of me and at the end - a jaw dropping, TOWERING Crescent. 45 Stories high.

I glance down at the spectators and soon-to-be participants still in the line outside. Looking at us in their own excitement, fear and even pity. It reminded me of a crowd of spectators in front of the guillotine during the French Revolution anxiously waiting for it to claim its next victim's head.

Then a loud horn sounds. The point of no return. My eyes widen. My jaw clenches. I grip the bars so fucking tight you can probably still see the imprints of my fingernails. Time seemed to suspend forever even though we knew that launch will occur any second. And then...... Whooooooosh!

oooooooohaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH !!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

The acceleration was unbelievable. Unatural. Breathtaking (literally). To the point when just as we reached maximum speed I wanted off! I wanted it to stop. It was just too too TOO much.... just when I hit that breaking point the coaster sails skyward and it is now that I can catch my breath for a moment. The coaster looses it's speed and momentum slightly as it arcs over the top of the crecsent creating a feeling of weightlessness. And now it is about to begin it's descent. I can see the puney ground directly below us as we plunge and twist STRAIGHT back down to earth at a speed of over 120 mph. The coaster starts to straighten out again as it sails over a "camel hump" and back down to a surprisingly smoothe stop. You can hear everyone trying to catch their breath while they madly apploaud. My eyes are still wide, my breath is starting to return to normal as we slowly coast back into the station. The brace releases and I slowly stumble out trying to catch my balance as my equilibriam is slightly askew. I feel like the wind was just knocked out of me. I am now exhausted. Dumbfounded. Trying to figure out what the fuck just happend and who the fucker was that designed such a...such a...such a crazy mother fucker of a ride! NOTHING IN THE ENITIRE WORLD mattered during those 54 seconds [except wanting to feel my heartbeat again]. Then I look over at Dylan who shouts, "You wanna do this again!?"

"Abso-FUCKING-lutely!!!"

Goodnight.

For a virtual ride go to http://www.sixflags.com/parks/greatadventure/Rides/KingdaKa.html (scroll down and download to take a virtual ride) and you will see exactly what I was talking about

Posted by Todd Wall at 9:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I am not exactly sure what to write in this blog. My head is swirling with emotion - all kinds - and I feel the inspiration brewing. There is so much I want to share with my computer and I don't know where to begin.

So let's start light: On Memorial Day Weekend I bonded with my family at our shorehouse down in Long Beach Island, New Jersey. I will go into detail about this amazing weekend (in a later blog) which was both sad and delightful at the same time.

While I was down there I bought a James Patterson book to read on the beach. My family are all huge James Patterson fans. He writes great supenseful murder mysteries. So I bought one of his books thinking I would get caught up in some type of suspenseful story like in all the previous books of his that I read.

Anyway the book's entitled, "Sam's Letters to Jennifer." It turns out it is a novel OOZING with sappy intertwined love stories. But I got really sucked in and genuinely moved by the stories. I know that because a quarter way through the book, I started to grow some tits. Half way through, my penis started shrival. And by the time I finished it, there were tears coming out of my eyes and when I pulled off my panties to put on my pajamas, I noticed I had a full fledged vagina. It was the greatest sappy romance novel a guy could ever read.

I would write more about my weekend with the family and also share with my reader(s) some tragically humorous dating experiences I have had over the years. But right now I am starting to get cramps so I need to go put a tampon in before bed and take some Advil. I am feeling rather bitchy and I hate men because they are such assholes and dawgs. Whatever happened chivalry!? Why can't a man just look at me when I am talking and really listen instead of constantly darting his eyes down and around my breasts. Why can't more men be like me when I was a man...This freaking book! Damn you James Patterson [crying] - DAMN YOU! [wailing] Now I can't stop crying. Too much pain. Too much pain. I am shutting down. Goodnight.

Posted by Todd Wall at 11:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)