Whenever I meet a smart, attractive woman, I always refer to her as a breeder. This used to be an insult to most women, but as time goes by and the world gets more eh? whatever the hell it's getting, more and more women are taking it as a compliment. I think this says something about society as a whole but I don't really care enough to research it.

Last night, a 5'5″ bald guy with glasses and a heart condition tried to cock block me from a girl I wasn't even hitting on. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is just sad.

I am officially a lazy bastard. I used to have in my possession one of the most disgusting George Foreman Grills in the history of disgusting George Foreman Grills. A week ago, it attracted ants. So, after killing the ants, I promptly threw away the Foreman and went and bought another one. I figure that they cost $20, so that's an expense I can justify every three years or so, right? That's what I thought. Thanks for having my back, random internet person.

I'm not lazy. And when you say that, it makes me feel bad.

I don't care what either of them have to say on the subject, I highly doubt that Jesus and Toby Keith would have liked each other in the slightest.

Hey, Loyal PIC Readers, I appreciate y'all. Really I do. You're some of the best and brightest internet readers in the world (I know this because I read PIC long before I wrote for it) and I can handle anything you have to say in the comment boxes and all, but please do not e-mail me asking about the whereabouts of another columnist. I won't answer them because a) it ain't my business, b) I don't fucking know and c) I like the emails I receive to at least have something to do with me. So if you must, at least acknowledge me before you ask, “What happened to Justin?” Please.

Am I the only one who's bothered by the fact that the Visa Halftime Report is brought to me by Visa? Seems like they got some kind of monopoly there or something.

The other day, I spent fifteen minutes trying to explain Nihilism to a girl with fake breasts. I would have had better luck explaining that particular philosophy to a radiator or garden hose. At least the garden hose wouldn't have walked away all pissed off.

My mom told me a great story about my dad, and since it's short, I'll put it in here. My parents are from a very cold and icy climate. When they moved to St. Louis, it was the farthest South they had ever lived. It was also the hilliest place they had ever lived. One day, after a particularly bad ice storm, my mom caught my dad moving the sofa toward the living room window. After he popped a beer and sat on the sofa, my mom asked him what he was doing.

“I'm going to watch these idiots try to get up this hill, here.”

And my father sat in his sofa and watched moron after moron skid out and slide down that hill.

And I'm telling you this only so y'all will understand that I come by this personality honestly. Really, it's not my fault.

And finally, because Logic and Fluidity are drunk on spiked eggnog, I leave you with the following, which I overheard during a football game:

“I'll bet John Madden's shits could be trained to sit up and beg.”

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