I’m being lazy today.

I’m just sitting around the house, playing Halo, surfing the web and napping. All in all, a completely lazy in a good way day. So, instead of writing another long, convoluted story here today I thought I might just ask you a question instead. And you can answer in the comments if you want. Or just ignore me and click over to something you find more entertaining. So, since I want to get back to playing Halo ASAP, here is the Mighty Question of the Day.

What is the dumbest lie you ever tried to get away with telling?

I’ve often wondered what would happen if I were to stop posting.

Not that I plan on giving up this website, mind you. Nor am I considering disappearing and never writing anything on the web ever again. Far from it, actually. Truth be told, I really enjoy bearing my soul for laughs to an uncaring, unseen mass of people who have nothing better to do with their lives but judge me based on my words. And all the writing I do is in the hopes that someone out there will find it in their heart to like me enough to acknowledge my existence, if only for the short moment it takes for them to type “U R fun-E” in the comments.

Which, I’m dismayed to say, no one ever has.

So don’t worry about me quitting, because that’s not going to happen. I’m no quitter. Nope. Not me. Hey, if I were a quitter I would have quit long ago. Back when quitting was the fashionable thing to do. As was sudden reappearances under different names on different websites just so the quitters could get their daily fix of adulation. Nosireebob, I’m no mindless trend follower like some people I could mention but won’t because they’re no longer on the web so mentioning them would serve no purpose except to fill my site with dead links and thus piss you off.

And yet I still wonder.

I wonder if anyone out there would actually miss me if I were gone. Would someone who reads my words on a semi-daily basis, you for example, actually shed a tear if one day TMG was nothing more than a “Page Not Found – 404 Error?” Would you send out a search party to find out what had happened to me? Would you even furrow your brow in a questioning way? Or would you simply shrug, click over to your favorite pr0n site and say, “What a loser” as you unscrew the top of your favorite lotion?

What would you do minion? What. Would. You. Do?

Whew, it’s hot.

It’s so hot that I saw people on the street make the conscious choice to spontaneously combust, not to commit suicide, but simply as a method of cooling off. Seriously, when it’s as hot and humid as it is outside right now (over 100 degrees Fahrenheit with 40% humidity in NYC) and you have to walk over 20 city blocks while carrying a heavy package, you cannot help but contemplate death as a serious alternative to being outside.

But there is an upside.

You see, when it’s this hot outside I like to grab some cold drinks and plop myself down on a bench, in the shade of course, and people watch. I just love to watch the sweet, hottie ladies wandering around in their summer outfits glistening with sexy sweat. On a day like today the girls are out in force in their tight, wife-beater t-shirts and short, shorts.

And sweet lord, most of them even forgo their bras.

Now, you might be thinking that I’m nothing more than a dirty old man… and you’re probably right. But the truth is that when it’s so fricking hot outside that the pigeon population is expected to dwindle because most of their eggs are frying in the nest, you’ll take any bit of pleasure you possibly can wherever you can find it. And since I also expect that sooner or later this month there will be a blackout in my neighborhood and I’ll have to suffer in this crazy heat without air conditioning or refrigeration to save me, I think that it’s my right… no, it’s my moral obligation, to watch the hot & sweaty hotties walk by as I sip a cold beverage and pretend not to see their rock-hard nipples through their almost sheer shirts.

Oh yeah. God bless those air-conditioned shoe stores.

How do you cut your nails?

Honestly, when you’re cutting your nails, do you just round off the top, as if you were at a barber shop and just needed a trim? You know, “Just a little off the top?” Or do you clip your nails as far down as you can get the clippers? You know, really digging in and trying to get as much nail in one shot so it forms that happy little crescent moon of nail droppings? Do you find yourself clipping your nails like some obsessive-compulsive manic monkey until the tips of your fingers hurt when you touch something and the sides of your fingers bleed? Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure out of creating the perfect rounded-top fingernail? Do you believe your life lacks meaning unless your nails are better clipped than your friends’ nails?

No?

Oh…

Uhhhh… Me neither.

Can someone, anyone, explain this?! And why the hell do I suddenly want a hot cup of Hoffee?

Bonus migraine:
Take notice that the steering wheel is on the left side but he’s pretending to drive on the right like they do in Europe.

I don’t get it.

On Saturday I went out with some friends to a bar to celebrate a few June/July birthdays. At this bar they happened to be playing a lot of music at volume levels normally associated with large scale, universe-forming explosions and some of the patrons decided that the best way to deal with bleeding ears was to just find a clear area on the floor and dance until the bleeding stopped.

I decided to stuff paper in my ears and sit in the corner.

While I was sitting there playing “Name That Noise” with my friends a group of Bridge & Tunnel girls entered the bar and, with their hands over their ears to help block the noise, screamed at each other that this place was “hot”, “dope” and “fricking cool!”

I wanted to cry.

For those who may not be from NYC let me explain something. Bridge & Tunnel people are those girls and boys who are from New Jersey, Long Island and/or Upstate/Connecticut who come down to NYC on the weekends to have fun and hang out at all the “cool” bars, clubs and other places where they believe the hip local people go. The saddest part of this is that as far as I have been able to tell, the locals only go to those places to pick up Bridge & Tunnel people so they can have a nice weekend fling. So when a group of B&T girls manage to find their way to a real local hangout, they almost always stick out like a circus clown at a funeral.

And it’s just as disturbingly sad.

Anywaste, after a few moments of watching these sad, little, lost souls struggle with how to stand around looking “cool” in their shiny silver and gold shirts and denim skirts, my eye was attracted to two young women who had just entered the bar together. They were dressed to the nines with their clothes, hair and makeup perfectly done. They both looked fabulous and my first impression was that they were out on the prowl looking for guys.

But almost immediately I was proven wrong.

You see, instead of seeming approachable or anything, these two lovely ladies instead seemed colder and less inviting than a wall of spike-covered glacial ice. What they did after entering the bar was go immediately to the dance area, faced each other and began dancing while simultaneously looking over each other’s shoulders with the fiercest “don’t even think of approaching us” looks on their faces that I have ever seen. Then after about two songs of this “dancing”, without a word to each other, they simply left.

I was flabbergasted.

I mean, what was the point? They had obviously spent hours making themselves look the absolute best that they could and yet they gave off such a vibe that not even the The Roxbury Guys would have dared approach. Honestly, their hair was straight out of Vogue, their clothes probably cost more than most people’s weekly paychecks and their makeup could have been done by a Hollywood artist and yet they spent all of ten minutes at the bar practically daring someone to get close enough for them to kill!

I confuzzled.

In an attempt to understand the inner workings of these strange people called women, I asked my wife and some of her girlfriends about the incident. None of the women seemed to find their actions all that strange and I got a whole bunch of different explanations ranging from “They probably just wanted a girl’s night of fun.” to “One of them obviously just broke up and the other was trying to get her to cheer up. Men suck.”

Say wha..?

So here’s where you come in. Help me understand this little episode because it’s truly making my head hurt. I could understand if it were a group of women out for a good time together who didn’t want any men to intrude on their night out, but just two women? All decked out? Dancing together in a bar instead of a club?

What am I missing here?

Today is a mobile post.

I am writing today’s post using my mobile phone, the T-Mobile MDA. Why? Because I find myself unable to comprehend why anyone would ever find typing something more involved than ‘c u l8r’ on this stupid keyboard convenient. I mean honestly, my thumbs are cramping up already and I’m not even done with the first damn paragraph!

Okay, now I’m done. Phew!

You know, just the fact that I can surf the web on this thing, kinda-sorta, IS kind of cool… in a Geeky-nerdy way. But what’s NOT cool is how many teeny-tiny buttons I have to press with my thumbs just to make a stupid comma or exclamation point! And don’t get me started on the things missing from this key… I mean THUMBboard. Things like brackets and quotation marks are nowhere to be found, which makes it impossible for me to add emphasis to my words here except by making them ALL CAPS. Which makes it look like I’m SHOUTING when all I really wanted to do was italicize ‘thumb’ in THUMBboard to make a subtle joke.

Yeah, that’s right, ‘subtle’. Like an elephant farting in a broom closet.

Anywaste, my main point here is that using this mobile method of updating my site blows. My thumbs hurt, this tiny screen is causing my eyes to tear up and the old woman sitting next to me won’t stop looking over my shoulder and asking me why my pillbox has a tv screen.

She also keeps asking me to change the channel to ‘Days of Our Lives’.

Just so you know.

Eating an entire pint of vanilla Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream right after downing 64 ounces of very sugary raspberry iced tea and then walking in the hot afternoon sun for two hours is NEVER a good idea.

Not even when the ice cream is free.