Attenion: I found my slate blue tights.

You can now go back to your life.

I'm too busy to be neat. Neatness takes time. My mother disagrees with me. She says neatness takes less time than messiness, but she's wrong. Over the years I've grown extremely efficient at being messy to the point where it requires almost no time at all. I've become so accustomed to disorganization that when I finally find the time to get "organized" I become disoriented and am unable to find anything. Now I'm not saying that everyone should abandon the idea of neatness. I'm not even saying that I'm about to give up on the ideal of being neat. I'm just saying that for me, I'm most efficient when I'm messy.

Here's to you, Plane De-Icer Guy. Every week I see you huddle in your cherry-picker bucket, bundled up like an eskimo, just trying not to freeze your nads off while dispensing frothy propylene glycol from a firehose. Tom Kazanski was a wuss. You're the real Iceman.

Have you ever had it where it's so cold out that when you breathe in, your nose hairs freeze up? That happened to me today. I didn't like it.

A lot of people seem to be curious about how my snowmobile suit went over. I have to say that despite my reservations, I'd have to call it a success. No, I wasn't the most chic snow bunny on the slopes, but it sure was warm. My friends made fun, but when they fell and got snow up their coats and down their pants, I was able to say, "Boy, that sucks for you. Sure am glad I've got a snowsuit!"

I wasn't able to get any pictures of the snowmobile suit in action, but I do have this and this.

Are there any places that deliver videos to your house? If there aren't, there should be. They need to hook up with the pizza guys so that I can just make one call and in 40 minutes I'm eating hot pizza and watching "Sixteen Candles".

Yesterday at the airport I saw a woman wearing the same coat as me. I smiled and thought, "Nice coat...but it looks better on me." Isn't that terrible?

Those who know me know that I'm no romantic. To be honest, most of the romantic sentiments found in movies and popular music leave the same feeling in my stomach that I get when I eat too much candy corn. But occasionally I come across something powerful and passionate enough to move even me. Bob Dylan's "Sara" is one of them. It's not just the lyrics, but the longing with which it's sung that's absolutely beautiful. It's enough to make me jealous of Sara Dylan. I'm pretty sure if that song was written for me, I'd melt into a puddle of goo.

Wanted: pass protection. Will pay anything. Call: Pittsburgh Steelers.

A note about Wednesday's post: Chuck is threatening a lawsuit because I did not obtain his expressed written permission to publish the "Dr. Powell Diet." I have promised to turn over to him all profits.

Doughnuts are from the devil

All you New Year's resolution dieters out there take note: my friend Chuck Powell says the Atkins diet is for loonies. He swears by his own regimen which he likes to call the Dr. Powell Diet: pasteries and soda, preferably from a vending machine. Chuck's personal favorite is little chocolate-covered doughnuts and a can of Pepsi. He credits this diet for his superior level of health and fitness and strongly encourages others to follow suit.

I was just looking at the calendar and realizing that the next holiday from work is Memorial Day. That sucks.

I am such a sucker. Sometimes I think I could be talked into just about anything. Tuesday night was proof of that. My friend Cherie actually talked me into buying a snowmobile suit. We were at Dunham's, looking for ski clothes for our ski trip this weekend when she came across the snowmobile suits on clearance. I tried one on an it was pretty warm and it saved me the hassle and cost of buying both a jacket and pants. The big fur collar is pretty cool, but the belt totally makes it look like I've got ghetto booty. Terrible. But before I knew it, I was parading around Dunham's in this thing and I even wore it out of the store. True, it was fun to wear the snowsuit around Walmart and Blockbuster, but a couple of days later, I'm left thinking, "Have I made a terrible mistake?"