I don’t know why I even write this blog. Nobody reads it. Maybe five people read it on purpose.

Everybody else just finds it because they’re Chinese and they’re looking up pictures of Yao Ming. How do I know? Because the statistics tell me which posts are most popular.

A while back I wrote about Stiggers and threw a picture of Yao Ming in there while discussing Stiggers’s height.

So all you fuckers care about is Yao Ming? Fine. Here you go:

WHAT.

A lot of you out there are wondering, what is sexy?

A hot girl in a bikini is definitely sexy.

Now, some of you may think this post is not sexy, but rather, sexist.

Getting a $25 birthday check from your grandmother is sort of sexy. But only in the following way:

Say Person A tells Person B that when he has sex with his girlfriend and can’t hold back, he thinks about his grandmother. Shortly after Person B hears this, he finds himself having sex with his girlfriend and feeling like he may not be able to hold back. So Person B thinks about his grandmother. But then, he immediately pictures Person A thinking of his grandmother while having sex with his girlfriend, and this makes him blow his load (I know, you hate that phrase).

Good night, and good… lunk?

I recently finished watching all five seasons of The Wire.

Saying The Wire is the greatest show ever on television does it a disservice. It’s one of the greatest pieces of art ever created.

Rounding out the top three television shows of all time are:

• Twin Peaks
• Arrested Development

I know what you’re thinking. What about BH 90210? I can’t say it’s better than the other shows I listed, but there’s something about it that draws me in and fascinates me.

90210 is so awesome. One kid who was on seasons 4 and 5 of The Wire is on the new 90210 (he’s the adopted black kid on 90210).

But really it’s the original 90210 that is so awesome.

Why is it so great? I can’t be certain. All I know is, it is.

Eggnog is really REALLY? really REALLY? really REALLY? good and real.

However yesterday my friend bought me an eggnog latte at Starbucks and it SUCKED MY AND YOUR BALLS. This could have to do with the fact that I don’t like lattes. When it comes to coffee, I’m only into espresso.

The thing is, when someone says they’ll buy me a coffee, I always decide to get something I wouldn’t normally get, even though I know I’d prefer a double espresso. I need to change this.

But you don’t care. What do you care about all this?

The point is, I fucking love eggnog. My dad used to get it a lot when I was younger. I don’t think he drinks it anymore. I guess he’s so over it.

Should I get some eggnog? I’m not sure. It’s one of those things I say I love, but when it comes down to it, why would I spend $3 on a jug of eggnog when I could spend $2.69 on a 48 oz. bottle of V-8 at Target?

Note: You must go back and read parts I and II of this post in order to even come close to comprehending it.

Predictably, the lady who keyed my car didn’t respond to my note.

(My note was basically an attempt to guilt trip her into calling me. I figured if she was into drama, maybe she would.)

This whole affair left me with a nagging depression for a few days.

I started to see things from her point of view, realizing that even though keying my car was an exaggerated response, I had been rude to her from the start, so in a sense, I deserved to be put in my place.

Prior to going to the gym that day, I had been at the farmer’s market. I had some nice pears, apples and tangerines in my car. Instead of brushing off her annoyance with me, I should’ve offered her a fresh piece of fruit as a peace offering. I should’ve apologized more sincerely.

I should be nicer to strangers. I should be more sympathetic.

Still, this woman is clearly a psycho cunt, and the trainer at the gym is an uncaring covering-up jerk.

I am going to the gym tonight to get ripped.