Whenever I look back at my life, peering through the cloudy haze of memory and beer-induced brain damage, I find that my memories are better than what reality probably offered.  The colors are brighter, the smells are sweeter.  For instance, when I scored my first ever goal in soccer I can hear the deafening roar of the crowd in my mind, even though there was only a homeless man asleep beneath the bleachers.  I know that this is probably old man nostalgia taking place as I march towards my 34th birthday.  It happens to everyone.

But trust me when I tell you that the three hottest girls ever created all attended Stillwater High School at the same time in 1994.  Yes, its true.  I was there and remember it perfectly.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present … The Triumvirate. [Read Column]

Here’s a brain dump of a lot of random stuff organized into Top 5 lists.  Exciting?  Probably not.
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The Psychic Friends phenomenon first hit in the late 1980s.  I remember it well, because I was just around ten years old.  Remember this was early ESP, way before Cleo or John Edwards.  This even before Dionne Warwick.  I can’t remember how they advertised, probably the same as they do now … late night or early Saturday television commercials … but I remember being inundated by their ads.  My brother and I were absolutely convinced that they were real.

So we called them. [Read Column]

When I was a kid, after seeing Tim Burton’s Batman (1989), I had this novel idea to be a costumed crime fighter.  That’s right, I thought that with a combination of training, Eastern philosophy, and a shitload of guns I could stalk the mean streets of New York looking to do good deeds and bring criminals to justice … or at least delivering such a beating that would leave them too scared to commit future crimes.

Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t envisioning myself running around with tights with my underwear on the outside.  I was cool enough to see myself more as a Punisher figure, wearing biker leather, with a Zorro cape.  Okay, so I wasn’t that cool.  I was 13 years old at the time.

I’m now 33.  Unfortunately, my world view is now completely and drastically changed.  I don’t think that my desire to be the altruistic, non-profit superhero is nearly as strong as it once was.  In fact, its completely fucking dead.  Other than getting a teary eye watching RSPCA (aka Humane Society) video of abused circus bears, I have developed a strong sense of apathy for the rest of the world at large. The only uses I can conjure for my proposed superpowers is to rip off the stock market or in some other way become incredibly rich with little or no effort. Or maybe effect the outcomes of sporting events by using telekinesis to alter the flight of a football.  Or make people I hated in high school develop Irritable Bowell Syndrome.

It’s funny that the older you get, the closer you get to the dark side of the Force.  Luke, give into your Malox.  So let’s just embrace the fact that I’m past my hero days and I’m full bore on the sinister, wise cracking, pimp daddy, world conquering, smart ass Super Villian.  Deez Nuts.

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Graduating from college and finding a job is a lot like hooking up in a bar while being hammered.  Rumor has it that there is at least one hot chick in there, though there seem to be a lot of average to rogue-ish looking girls that can play the bitch card because there is such a bad ratio of girls to guys.  These are the kind of girls that a dude celebrates when he’s in the mug down by the pinball machine only to relive his night in ghastly horror the next day as his friends show him pictures off of their camera phones while they are lying their asses off about their own failures and roadside hags.

That’s the best analogy for getting a job straight out of college.  That’s what it was like for me.  That was Centex Home Equity. [Read Column]