You know, if it turns out that they never make a fourth X-Men movie, I think it would probably be a wise course of action to just pretend that Kate and Leopold completes the tetrology.

            At my job, we happen to be right next door to a bridge (our other neighbor, a forest, is always keeping us up late by throwing nature raves and getting the cops called on them when the deer get drunk and knife each other) and we also happen to have a number of walkie talkies.  As a result, anyone driving over the bridge who happens to also have a walkie talkie can unwittingly share their thoughts with us as they drive over said bridge.  Unfortunately, these thoughts are invariably something akin to, “Whoa, this is a totally high bridge!”  Every single freaking time.  Mind you, it is a pretty high bridge, but really, is it that important an epiphany that you need to tell everyone else in the convoy and interrupt me teaching a bunch of 2^nd graders about how the Powhatans made their canoes (mostly with nunchuks and their phat needlepoint skillz).?

            I bet that if you were a vampire and you ate a bowl of Sun Chips, you’d probably die.  Again.  So if you suspect yourself to be a vampire, but you still want to be health-conscious, maybe you’d better stick to the Baked Lays.

            You know how when someone is choking, people always run up and pat them on the back?  I think that’s the worst thing you can possibly do.  It’s like you’re offering them kudos for failing to chew adequately.  “Hey,” you appear to be saying, “You’ve managed to get a Swiss Roll stuck in your throat again.  Good work, you deserve a pat on the back!”  All that kind of thinking does is encourage people to keep on choking.  Rather, when somebody is choking, you ought to smack them on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper, so they learn that choking is bad, and is the sort of behavior with which you will not put up.  Don’t wait too long to do it though, otherwise they won’t make the connection and will just think you’re beating them.

            If you were a member of one of those South American tribes that can’t count past two, you would also be most foolish for your bowling team to appoint you the task of scorekeeper.

            The bathroom mirror in Sheetz is just low enough that if I had an afro, it would be completely useless for inspecting it.

            I’m really tired of ending letters with things like, Love, or Sincerely.  They seem so trite and I worry that the people to whom I am addressing epistles will fail to recognize how deeply I care for them.  That’s why I propose changing it up a bit.

            “Dear Grandma, thank you for the pajamas, they make me to resemble a plaid marmot and smell strongly of communism.

            May your foes tremble before you,

                                                            Ben”

            Did you ever notice how all Elton John songs sound exactly alike?  I just did the other day, and man, it’s like the whole world has changed for me.

            I bet Gene Simmons, despite all his great contributions to human civilization in the fields of rock n’ roll, monster slaying, and being able to lick his own elbow, lives a life of secret shame because of his brother Richard.  Yeah, just imagine how those family reunions must go.