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As we roll up the beach blankets and unroll the stadium blankets, it's safe to assume that summer has given way to fall. While we might be mourning the loss of those sunny days and moonlit nights, we can always relive their glory through this year's feel good song of the summer. As you all know the rules of this award, I can safely dive directly into its presentation.

"The 2007 Feel Good Song of the Summer" goes to the one and only "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne. Try listening to it without feeling compelled to rush to the nearest dance floor Airplane-style. You simply can't. Even the hearing-impaired fall helplessly under its musical spell.

I also feel the need to present a retro award to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'." Whether listening to a Top 40 radio station, rocking out to the jukebox at Charlie's Kitchen or watching the final episode of The Sopranos, you couldn't escape this '80s masterpiece.

So go ahead and load up these songs, crank the volume up to eleven and give the summer of 2007 the farewell it so rightfully deserves.

From the Lakes of . . .

I'd again like to take this moment to quote the lyrics to my new favorite song.

"Who says you can't go home?"

Try the Veal

Behold, my dear readers, the most amazing calf you shall ever see. Marvel at its definition. Gaze upon its subtle tan. Lose yourself in its tangle of hair. Be overwhelmed by the knowledge that it's only half of a dynamic duo of exquisite calves. Play your cards right, and you could admire both at your leisure.

Many will enter; few will win. Offer is open to Minnesota residents only. Please allow twelve days for delivery.

Modeling the Latest Fall Fashions from Paree

Dear Homeless People,

Although I don't believe in you [much like foolish people don't believe in Santa Claus], I feel the need to compose a letter to you. I understand that life gave you lemons, and you misplaced your juicer. That doesn't mean you have to neglect your social graces entirely. Let's go over a couple ground rules regarding your future interactions with me. I'll be the Henry Higgins to your Eliza Doolittle, so that I, too, can grow accustomed to your face.

God help you if you attempt to get my attention by shaking your damned cup of coins. I don't respond to the worthless senior citizens who do the same thing while sitting in front of a slot machine surrounded by a cloud of smoke, and I'm certainly not going to respond to you.

If you want my money, entertain me. Breakdance in the subway station. Do some street magic. Accompany yourself on the ten-gallon plastic pickle tub. If I have to jump through hoops at my job to get paid, so do you.

Unfortunately, you will never be able to read this letter, as you would need both a computer and basic literacy skills. I can only assume you lack both. Maybe I can address these issues with you during the group sleepovers you are so fond of having outside the Coop. I apologize if my presence interrupts your pillow fights, ghost stories and intense games of "Truth or Dare."

In whatever manner this letter reaches you, I hope you take its content to heart. It will make the city a better place for all. Well . . . except for you . . . you'll still be homeless.

Sincerely,
Justin

P.S. Regarding your signs, where do you get all the fabulous cardboard and markers used in their creation? I need to make some for Twins games, and poster board and Sharpies just aren't cutting the mustard.

Do It, Doug!

I would love to have been a fly on the wall during whatever meeting birthed this unholy demon of a strip mall. I imagine it went something like this.

Tycoon 1: "I'm considering investing in a strip mall."
Tycoon 2: "Well, you'd have to market it to the key demographic."
Tycoon 1: "18-34 year-old white males?"
Tycoon 2: "No. Jewelry-buying, exercising, pizza-loving porn addicts."
Tycoon 1: "Brilliant! Don't you think we might be alienating some people, though?"
Tycoon 2: "Er . . . pedophiles?"
Tycoon 1: "Absolutely! Maybe I can work that into the name of the mall somehow."

For those keeping score at home, you can visit this temple to commercialism in Salem, NH. Once a coffee shop is added, I'll be hanging out there daily.

Mmm . . . Bowlful of Jelly . . .

Now that my résumé has been perfected, it must embark on a dangerous journey around the world. In 80 days or fewer, I can only hope that my dream job will fall directly into my lap. If all goes as planned, that lap will be getting quite the workout in the upcoming months.

You see, my dear readers, I yearn to be Santa Claus.

Besides my obvious affinity for the Christmas season, there are numerous reasons that this career is perfectly suited to me.

• My office at the North Pole would always be surrounded by snow.
• The elves would make all 5' 7.5" of me seem ginormous.
• Flying by sleigh is quite possibly the best mode of transportation ever.
  
• Milk and cookies are two of my favorite food groups.
• I would inherit that twinkle in my eye that I've always desired.
• I could eat candy canes year round.
• I would finally be part of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
• I look good in red.

In the meantime, I can only sit back and play the waiting game. Perhaps I'll go recruit some little people to be in my entourage. That way I can mentally prepare for my future life among the elves.

Glenn Miller

Sometimes when I'm craving chicken, I tell people I'm in a fowl mood.

They probably just assume that I'm angry.

I'm All Man, Lady!

A good friend once told me that everybody has a superpower. As I have never taken classes at the Xavier Mansion, retreated to a Fortress of Solitude nor slung webs in New York City, I was hesitant to believe him. Recent events, however, have stirred within me the desire to construct a costume and secret identity for myself.

Quite simply, I have the power to cause people near me to make out with each other.

Before you all start commenting on how f-in' awesome that is, consider the following shortcomings of this gift.

1. It has not influenced others to lock lips with me.
2. It causes my bar patrons to wear out their welcome as they fondle each other well past last call.
3. It has not yet been successful in influencing girl-on-girl action.

I simply must learn to control this power. Only by harnessing my raw sexual energy can I ever hope to save the cheerleader . . . and also the world.

Course of Life

I've decided it's time to update my résumé. One simple change will move my CV [that's curriculum vitae for you non-Brits] from the "No Way in Hell" pile to the "Give This Guy the Company" pile. Under special skills, I have added three simple words.

Raw. Sexual. Energy.

I even added the periods to the skills list, as they provide a much needed sense of emphasis to an otherwise boring résumé.

I figure this phrase will come in handy in non-résumé-requesting job interviews as well.

• Interviewer: "What three words would you use to describe yourself?"
• Me: "Raw. Sexual. Energy."

I'll be sure to use an upcoming craft day to create a shirt with the aforementioned phrase emblazoned on the front.

C+C Music Factory

Let's play a little game I like to call, "Guess the Celebrity!"

The rules are simple. By looking to the right at my drawing, all you have to do is [as the title implies] guess the celebrity.

Ready? Set? Go.

I'm No Superman

As a [self-proclaimed] great writer, I often have millions of blog ideas floating around my head at once. Instead of boring you all with a post for each of these thoughts, I'll just summarize them in a list entitled, "Things I Heart at the Moment."

• the Minnesota Twins - If it were biologically possible, I would bear the children of each and every member of this team . . . at the same time.
• Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip - I missed Matthew Perry.
• sweatpants - They're not just for depressed fat people anymore.
• the impending season of Lost - I wish someone would erect [tee-hee] a giant four-toed statue in my honor.
  
• wool socks - They're like sweaters for my feet.
• Scrubs in syndication - I often narrate my own life as well. Random strangers do not appreciate this.
  
• making bulleted lists - They look so professional and PowerPoint-esque.

I would have included parallelism in that list, but the humor of its addition would have been a tad dry . . . even for my taste.

UMass Gymnastics Championship

Yes, I actually showed up to an airing of the "Today" show with a sign in hand that read, "And Then I Met Al Roker."

Unfortunately, that morning only one girl woke up next to me . . . and it was my sister.

Does In?

Has it really been 12 days since my last post? As I really have no excuse for such a ridiculously long absence (besides drinking myself stupid on Shipyard Pumpkinhead Ale), I'll make some up instead.

• I was busy eating one egg a day until the carton was empty.
• I was writing biographies of each of the actors portraying the 12 jurors in 1957's 12 Angry Men.
• I was playing "What's Your Sign Bingo." Each night was dedicated to meeting somebody at the bar with a different Zodiac sign.
• I was keeping tally of the primates in 12 Monkeys.
• I was reenacting the labors of Heracles.
• I was trying to figure out who the twelfth was in Ocean's Twelve.

For those of you readers who were loyal enough to go on a hunger strike until I posted again [I'm looking at you, Nicole Richie], enjoy your dinner tonight.

You Look So . . . Right . . .

Continuing my award-winning "Signs of the Times" series, I present this doozy, which was found outside a store in New York City.

Following in this company's "let's make outlandish claims and hope they're true" footsteps, I will now propose the following.

• I'm probably the coolest person ever.
• My blog is probably the most read on the Internet.
• Women probably want me, and men probably want to be me.
  

It's nice to see that mom and pop stores are still putting forth that extra effort needed to overtake the corporate monolith.

Text Speak for London

As Labor Day has come and gone, it's safe to say that the good times are over. Summer has ended, and the only thing left to do to ring in the autumn months is to name "The Feel Good Song of the Summer." The rules are simple.

1. The song should make you feel good.
2. It should probably have been released on the radio sometime during the past summer.
   
3. Random bubblegum pop songs from random artists generally beat out songs from mainstream performers.

The 2006 recipient of this award will join the prestigious ranks of the following songs.

• 2003 - "Move Your Feet" by Junior Senior
• 2004 - [no award given]
• 2005 - "Haven't Found" by Pras

As decided by me, "The 2006 Feel Good Song of the Summer" is none other than "LDN" by Lily Allen. Sadly, this song is an import from across the pond [i.e., the UK], so many of you have probably not heard it played. Thus, this year I will also present the stateside award to Christina Aguilera's "Ain't No Other Man."

Ms. Allen and Ms. Aguilera, as this is a live program, you will be required to limit your acceptance speeches to two minutes.

Fishing in Repulsion

It's about that time.

"What time?" you ask.

"Time to coin a new phrase," I reply.

Although the grammatical community is still reeling in disgust from my previous contributions to the English language, I feel the need to throw another one in their general direction. Consider the following.

"Holy Lord. When slash if you come out to visit, open a new credit card because there is crazy shopping here."

That text message was sent by me on Monday, August 14, 2006 at 6:27 pm. Mark that on your calendars as the date and time when I coined the typing of "slash" instead of "/" when texting somebody. It will soon become all the rage in Milan.

Mr. President

Well, folks, it's been exactly one year since I started this li'l ole blog, so I figured some sort of birthday celebration was in order. What better way to fuel my ego than to bask in the glory of my ten favorite finger exercises. I do enjoy a top ten list that is pretty much a salute to myself. So, without any further ado, I present "My Top 10 Favorite Blog Postings of the Last Year."

10. Underneath My Blood Is Blue -- I truly have some ridiculous life goals.
9. A Cup Might Prevent That -- The raving reviews still crack me up.
8. It's Just Me out There -- Robert Goulet impressions will never not be funny.
7. A Me Sandwich -- Maybe I should email this to the "Today" show.
6. Can I Be Your Ice King? -- She's gorgeous.
5. Hometown Travel Agency -- I love/miss the college days of yore.
4. And Now It's Copyrighted to Me -- Coining the phrase "I heart" is my greatest gift to mankind.
3. Be Still Mon Coeur -- To use my own coined phrase, I heart this commercial.
2. Mr. Wheelchair Crackhead of Hennepin Avenue -- I only wish I had an actual picture of a wheelchair crackhead of Hennepin Avenue.
1. And Also in Space -- "The Jesus Bandwagon" is the greatest picture I have ever created.

Here's to many more years of you loyal blog visitors reading my incoherent ramblings that should probably never have been allowed to be published.

Head in a Vice

This past weekend I hit up the casino for the first time in years. Given my lack of gambling experience, I consider it a great feat that I came out with 67% more money than when I entered.

If my chemistry degree has taught me anything, it's that you can never have enough useless charts and graphs to illustrate your point. Thus, I present a bar graph of this monumental money increase.

Notice the staggering amount by which the "Final" column eclipses the "Initial" column. It's truly mind-boggling.

Of course, all this actually means is that I put 75¢ in a slot machine and got $1.25 back. After that I stopped gambling.

Rhapsody in Blue

Today, the bar at which I work smelled like an airplane cabin.

After much deliberation, I decided that an airplane's distinct odor is the combination of the glorious smell of coffee and the hideous stench of a nursing home. It's nice to see the two scents of such polar opposites -- one seeks to keep you awake during your busy life, while the other seeks to calm you during your march towards impending death -- living together so harmoniously.

Makin' the Rockin' World go 'Round

Over the past couple days, I have felt like an unnecessary amalgam of two of my most hated people in the world -- the obese and the elderly. Seriously, all that I've accomplished is sweating and farting.

I suppose that if I had wanted to further embody these two worthless types of people I could have taken up more than one seat on the bus and then ambled at an ungodly slow pace through Target while attempting to pay for adult diapers with exact change that is buried at the bottom of a purse the size of a horse's feedbag.

That may have been the longest sentence I've ever written.