A seven year old boy set a record by becoming the youngest person to swim from Alcatraz to San Francisco. He also became the youngest person to ever be a smartass to a reporter at the San Francisco Chronicle (breaking a record previously held by Macaulay Culkin). When asked what the hardest part was of the 1.4 mile stretch he swam, the little wiseass replied, “The swimming.” I think I speak for all of America when I say, “Well played, little dude. Well played.”

Sometimes, I think I would be better off if I quit drinking all together. Then I remember, I’m an alcoholic. For some reason, that makes me feel better.

Do you ever think about bumblebees? You know, they die when they sting you. In this way, they are the suicide bombers of the insect world. And yes, I know I need help.

I don’t know a single person who likes black licorice. Seriously, who eats that stuff?

In the past two days, my girlfriend has spilled four drinks and helped a table turn over. There are many words to describe her, but “graceful” is not one of them. I think I’m settling on “klutzy”, but perhaps there’s a better word out there. Maybe, “coordinationally challenged” would be a better term for it. Though, more than likely, it wouldn’t.

If I were a baseball player, I would totally wear a Fu Manchu that was dyed to match my team’s colors. Then, just to make sure that people thought I was crazy, I would name my Fu Manchu, Beardy and talk to it like it were a real person. I’d be a hell of an interview, too, because I would call every reporter either “Chuckles” or “Bubbles”, depending on their respective gender. It really is too bad I didn’t have the bat speed.

I almost went bowling the other night. I gave it some serious thought, and then I realized something: I hate bowling. You know, you’re never too old to learn stuff about yourself.

Last night, after I completed my running diary, my girl and I went out to a restaurant and ate something we couldn’t pronounce and had never had before. It was delicious. You really should give it a try.

I would appreciate it if you would refrain from being my friend if you’re gonna dress like that. What? You know what I mean. Slob.

And finally, because this is one of those entries where logic and fluidity get stung by bees and can’t make it in to the office (logic and fluidity are both allergic to bee stings—who knew?), I leave you with the following, which Reader Kevin emailed me from Boca regarding one of his employees.

“Please, that girl has fucked more black men than Hurricane Katrina.”

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