Discoveries, dipshit moments and, well, it's all for a good cause

So, Jason and the fams gave me a copy of Chuck Palahniuk’s “Haunted” for my birthday.
That’s the creepy cover shot.
It is basically a novel of stories. Twenty-three of them, written by 23 people who answer an ad that says, “Writers' Retreat: Abandon Your Life for Three Months.”
What happens to the 23 is seriously fucked up.
The stories are fantastic.
I’ve read it, but I didn’t own it. And I’m glad to have it.
Thursday night I was thumbing through it, and read a couple of my favorite stories (there’s one about a rich couple pretending to be homeless that’s very interesting).
I put it down on a stack of books on the nightstand and shut out the lights.
Then I got thirsty.
So I turned in the darkness and reached for my water bottle.
The book cover glows in the dark.
Just her face. In this eerie green glow.
Yeah, it freaked me out.
For a minute.
Then I marveled in how cool it was.


If your use Icy Hot (extra strength), do not keep it in the medicine cabinet in your bathroom.
Well specifically, don’t rub a huge glob of it into your tendinitis-afflicted right arm.
Then touch your penis for any reason whatsoever without washing your hands.
The company is serious when they say, “goes on icy cool to dull the pain, then heats up quickly to relax it away.”
I can tell you from direct contact that it heats up to a mighty uncomfortable burning sensation pretty fucking fast.
So I looked at the directions and while it mentions not getting Icy Hot near your mucus membranes or into broken skin, they say nothing of getting it on your penis.
Guess you have to find that out all on your lonesome.


I’m more of a mosh pit kinda guy.
But on July 14, I’ll be Dancing with the Stars as a benefit for the county women’s refuge and the YMCA’s mentor program.
Soon, I’ll be teamed up with a dance partner and a choreographer. We’ll have two weeks of practice to learn two dances (I’m hoping for hip-hop and the tango, because I think that would be way cool) and we’ll perform for a live audience at the restored Cascade Theater.
(Which holds 999 people.)
We’ll be judged.
This could be a tremendous amount of fun.
Or it could be a huge fucking disaster.
Could go either way.