I made some of my jean extending clip on cuffs. I just haven't implemented the clip on functionality which is why I haven't photographed them yet. The Allistralian was just at my apartment the other night and she was really stoked about the invention because she has a hard time finding jeans that are the right length. This product could totally be marketed to the big and tall -- not just wieners with high waters. Why didn't I think of this?

Last night I was going to order Patch Perfect -- the shakeable grass seed -- from an infomercial. But I decided to do a little research on the internet first. Everyone gave it 0 out of 10, but they said it was because it didn't cover nearly as much area as it claimed, or they said this is just grass seed, why is it so expensive? So I compromised and went to Wal-Marts and got a bag of grass seed. I've had these planters outside of my bedroom window for years now and to date have been unsuccessful in keeping anything alive for more than a day. I was under the impression that plants could survive hours, maybe even days, without constant care. Not so. I have killed everything from plants to herbs and always in under a week. So now I'm growing grass. Heat resistant, drought resistant grass. If I can keep it alive, get it to grow in pretty thick, and then cut it to a uniform length, I think that could be real attractive. If I can keep it alive.

And now, another million dollar idea from yours truly. Strange how I have all of these million dollar ideas, but not a million dollar bank account. Anyway, you know how celebrity gossip and tabloids are so popular? And also you know how reality TV is so popular? Okay, now put those two ideas together:

REALITY TABLOIDS!!!

I'm going to write nasty articles about how fat women in my neighborhood are getting. And I'm gonna snap pictures of two bitches out at bars wearing the same outfit and have people vote on who wore it better. I'll do everything the paparazzi does to celebrities, but I'll do it to regular people. It'll be so awesome. Breaking neighborhood scandals. Having people see themselves leaving a local bar and falling down. This could really catch on. I'm working on the first issue now. It'll be a twofer purchase with the first issue of the Conduit. Suckers.

I've always tried to be a bit of an ideas man (see: Mega-Blinds) but ever since Pitchmen came on TV, I've been dying to come up with an invention that I can market on TV. Sadly, Billy Mays passed away recently, so I don't think they're going to continue the show. But I can't let that stop me. I must press forward with new ideas.

Which brings me to my latest invention. It occurred to me while laying on top of Daniel, blocking his view of the television just how comfortable it is to lay on someone's chest. Why not make a pillow that follows those contours for use all the time? I can't really speak towards a woman's chest, but I assume that most straight men would be deterred from buying a pillow in the shape of another man, even though it is undeniably comfy, so I made some women pillows too.

You can't tell me you wouldn't buy one of these. You could, but you'd be lying. What do you think? I think it's a little better idea than my clip-on pants cuffs. For those days when you realize your jeans are just a little too short to be wearing. You reach into your glove box and pull out your clip-on cuffs and extend your pants an extra inch or two. I'm working on a prototype as we speak. I'll be sure to let you see it. As long as you don't steal it and market it! I'm serious.

I can't believe I stayed up an extra hour to photoshop boobs onto pillow. Wait, maybe I can. Late.

Ever since I started back at work, it has quite literally been kicking my ass. Well, not literally. I hate it when people emphasize LITERALLY when they clearly mean figuratively ... like I just did. But it has literally been exhausting me mentally and physically. Instead of accomplishing anything while I was in Sydney for 2 weeks, they expended more energy on shifting around schedules to buy more time. So now I have just as much to do, only it's all 2 weeks behind schedule and stacked on top of each other. Pretty bullshit. It's Saturday morning now and I'm about to head out to a construction site. My feet hurt so bad from the boots I had to buy. And my right knee gave out yesterday and can no longer really support my body weight. There's a reason I'm good with computers and not football. I'm not cut out for this.

Luckily, I've figured out what I want to do with my life. I was watching Modern Marvels, as I so often do, and the subject was bread. And they talked about the best thing since sliced bread, etc. But at the end, they talked about the rise of the artisan bread makers. It's basically like owning your own brewery, crafting your own local varieties and stuff. But I just think it would be so awesome to open up an artisan bread making company here in Addison! Circle. That way it would always smell good like bread, and hopefully people would stop buying loafs of commercially produced bread and just drop by the neighborhood bakery every day for something fresh and delicious. I just need some start up capital, because I already have everything else planned out, including the name. I call my bakery "Yeast Infection."

I'm here all week.

There's a new promotional deal from the good people at M&M's. You might have seen the commercials for it. It's kind of cool. You can log onto their website (mms.com) and customize your M&M's. You get to choose two colors and two phrases. So you could get like lavender and yellow M&M's that say, "Happy Easter," and, "Praise Jesus!" But therein lies the problem. That's like all they will let you do.

They have a few rules you must abide by in order to get your customized candy. First, no single letters. They take pride in their brand or some shit like that so the only single letters they will print on their candy is their trademarked "M." Mmmk, no big deal. Secondly, no company names or organization names. Whatever. This is where it gets stupid. No references to drugs. They had an example of a candy they would not print and it said, "Mary's Pills," which I thought was riotous. I can just see Mary's face when you give them to her. She'd kind of try to feign like she found it amusing but really she would just be kinda like what the hell? Yknow? Also you work with Mary and she's kind of uptight. So okay that eliminated like a third of my ideas. And finally, no obscenities. Game over. I'm not buying customized M&M's.

The last thing wrong with this idea is that you only get two lines and each line is 8 characters each. So you really can't express anything in inuendos or whatever to get around their Nazi rules about what they will and won't print. So here's what I'm thinking. I will start my own business where I do nothing but buy plain M&M's and then print stuff on them for you. And I'll have a microprinter so you can get M&M's with your entire manifesto on them. All I'm saying is that the M&M's pictured here would be fun to nonchalantly sneak into a child's birthday party and if the only thing standing between me and that goal is some kind of edible microprinter I'm not entirely sure exists, but if I does you can be certain it would be wildly prohibitively expensive... well then, I'm not going to let that stop me.

Well. So. Anyway. That may or may not have been worth an entire blog.

There's a new fashion craze sweeping the nation. Now channel the spirits of Slater, Lisa and Jessie and imagine me saying this in the correct whispered repetitious Buddy Bands manner:

MegaBlinds. MegaBlinds. MegaBlinds.

It has always bothered me that there isn't an opaque eyewear available on the market. Every time that I lay out, regardless of how dark or how big my sunglasses are, as soon as I lay on my back, the sun is blinding me right through my eyelids. So I end up with my hands in front of my face all day. Well not anymore. Miniblinds are for fat old housewives. MegaBlinds are only for the most outrageous socialites and celebutants. They're perfectly timeless yet totally today.

Using a closely guarded family recipe which combines fashion and function, MegaBlinds will block the sun, or anything else you want to avoid, while making you look like a million bucks. The secret comes from the exclusive MegaBlinds rhinestone quarry. Each jewel is certfied flawless and hand crafted to guarantee the maximum amount of sparkle.

And they're not just for the pool anymore. Going to the same club as your ex tonight and want to make sure you don't even acknowledge their existence? Slap on a pair of MegaBlinds and drink well, knowing your head won't turn when they walk by. Hungover and can't get back to sleep because the sun is pouring into your bedroom? Turn that hangover upsidedown with MegaBlinds.

I really think this could catch on. If you could all do me a favor and spread the word. Seeing is believing, and you'll never see again. MegaBlinds retail for a low, low introductory rate of $350, so if you would like a pair, be sure to get your order in early. Each pair of MegaBlinds is hand crafted and completely customized, and the orders are already pouring in. When things are expensive, it makes people want them. Thanks in advance for telling all your friends!

Warning: Mega-Blinds not intended for use while driving. Or walking.

Since I know you've all been waiting with baited breath (if you've been eating anchovies), I've come to share the results of my experiment. I left a sacrificial beer out over night until it reached room temperature (which, oddly enough, when it's cold outside is around 75, although during the summer hovers closer to 65 ... must be the dew point). Parenthetical interjections aside, I am proud to announce that my digital thermometer plunged from 75 to 32 (as low as the thermometer goes -- d'oh, sorry I'll stop interrupting) in under 2 minutes. And that was with the beer not fully submerged so I could measure it!

I can now rest easy knowing that so long as I leave my largest tupperware container filled with salt water in the freezer, i can always have ice cold beer in under a minute. Whew! One less thing to worry about.

In other news, some fuck head screwed up my webpage the other night. Unfortunately for him, I check my comments about every 2 to 3 minutes. Jonny was his name. Whatever html code he had posted in my comments section automatically redirected me to some website that I had to click to enter. I was too scared to do it, though, because no good comes from that. But you, my faithful viewers, are inevitably braver than I (or on the library computer so who cares?). So I need you to go to http://usuc.us/j.php and tell me what it is. It even fucked up the inner workings of my webpage, so I had to go thru each entry with comments still open, open it in notepad, erase his damage, and then resync everything. It was quite a pain in the ass. Oh, and now, no html allowed in comments any more ('cept bold, italic and links). Fucker.

Also, just for the record, if you are ever redirected off of my website, then just shut down Internet Explorer. I never, under any circumstances, allow you to leave my website. All of my links always open in a new window. Just, y'know, in case this is an identity theft thing.

Whailp, I guess that's all I have to say. Fuck you, Jonny. The rest of you are cool. Peace out.

I like to think of myself as an aspirer. There's nothing I really excel at, but there are many, many things I am aspiring to be. Just one of those, as you may know, is a MythBuster. Although I do feel the need to recall my Brita water filter vodka experiment and mention that I did that before the MythBusters did.

Anywho, let me tell you about my latest experiment. This one is based on the episode where they test the absolutely retarded idea that burying beer in the sand, dousing it with gasoline, and lighting it on fire will cool the beer down ... as fire tends to do to things. They obviously busted this myth, but then set about finding out the fastest way to cool down a six pack. Keith can tell you that the fastest way to do so is in a cooler full of ice and salt water. You can bring the temperature of the salt water down to around 25 degrees Fahrenheit, envelop the can in the sub-freezing liquid, and a few minutes later, you've got a frosty cold beer. I've used this a few times in a pinch when the only available case of Kers Lat (or Miller when I'm at Lesbie's) is off the shelf. But it requires a sink, all the ice in the ice maker, and the remainder of salt in the house. Could this be improved?

Hypothesis: If I could get a saline solution with enough salt that it wouldn't freeze solid in the freezer, I could have instant beer cooling liquid on hand at all times. Plop a beer in for 30 seconds, rinse and drink. It should be fast enough that I don't mind doing it one beer at a time.

Research: Now, I do all of my research on the internet from uncertified websites, so if you see any flaws here, please let me know. What I read tells me that the average freezer is set at 0 degrees Fahrenheit ... well below water's freezing point. At first I thought it might be too cold at any salinity. But, another website suggested that when water reaches saturation of salt, the freezing point can be lowered to around -6 degrees Fahrenheit. So, it's probable that if I pour a shit ton of salt into a bowl of water and place it in the freezer, it will still be a liquid in the morning. A super chilled beer frosting liquid.

I was surprised how much salt the water could handle. You wouldn't expect me to be surprised since in the sixth grade I took second place in the science fair with, "Which Liquid Can Hold the Most Salt?" I received glowing comments like, "Why?" No reason, bitch, I was just fucking curious. g*d! Oh well, it was much better than my brother's, "Does Fertilizer Help Plants Grow?" Turns out it does. Anyway, it took about half a can of salt, but I wanted to make absolutely sure that it was saturated and had a few crystals left over that it couldn't absorb. And now, we wait.

I'll keep you all posted on my progress.

I am back in Addison! once again. I have managed to finagle a way out of going back to Seattle, at least for the immediate future. I wouldn't be half surprised if I spent at least one more week there. And that's okay. I don't mind occasional travel, it's just this trickery and moving of one's permanent residence that rubs me raw.

So anyway, you know how I'm like full of million-dollar ideas? I've been tossing this one around for a while and I finally figured it out. There hasn't been one plane ride in the recent future that I've not been near a screaming child. Why so many children commute between Seattle and Dallas I will never know. And I must reiterate to you parents, no one thinks your child is cute but you. Don't give me a chuckle and a shake of the head when your deformed looking twins shit their pants on descent and I have to smell it for 30 minutes. That's when I came up with my new airline. Ladies and gentiles, I present to you -- 21+ Airlines!

Just imagine the possibilities. Business travelers wouldn't have to put with with white trash parents that overcrowd the overhead bins with their strollers and rockers. You could actually sleep on the way home after a long week in another city. Boarding and unboarding of the plane would be quick and painless. Yes, 21+ Airlines is a fantastic idea. It might even be a cabin full of first class. And there is a two drink minimum. I'm going to be so fucking rich.

On my flight to L.A. (for my layover, those bastards) I was sitting next to a mother and her 5 year old daughter. The daughter would not stop screaming, kicking the chair in front of her, and crying because her ears were popping. And in between that she was overly excited because she was on her way to Disneyland. She told everyone on the plane she was going. She screeched to her dad a few rows up, "Thanks for taking me to Disneyland, daddy!" All would have been cute in the proper context ... say, a preschool. Or a playground. But on a plane, annoying. So I tried to sleep through the whole flight and when we landed, she siezed the opportunity to tell me she was going to Disneyland. And I said, "Really? Hmm, I don't think it's open this time of year." And the mom laughed, hit me, and said, "Oh, COME ON." But I don't even think the little girl heard me so we had a good laugh over it.

I brought the SkyMall magazine home with me from the plane. I want to order just about everything in there. I think I'm going to finally get some houseplants and then buy an automatic waterer so they might actually stay alive. And I want a hydroponic herb grower. And a gentle wake alarm clock. And a massage chair. And damn, I'm lucky I have no money otherwise it'd be gone.

I think first on my to-do list is to get my windows taken care of. I can't take that sun in my bedroom anymore. It won't be cheap but I think if I just get some heavy fabric, fold it to make it look kind of like vertical blinds, and just nail it to the wall behind the vertical blinds, no one will see it from the inside and no one will notice it from the outside. Unfortunately there's some "rule" against aluminum foil. Jerks.

I felt obliged to update right away because my brother said he was going to remove me from his Favorites list on account that I don't update much lately. I want you all to know that I am not going gentle into that good night, I've just been out of town so fucking much. So bear with me and keep coming back for more.

I just got done with my first real session of yoga, and holy crap was it hard. The entire thing is isometric, which looks easy, but man my muscles were burning up. The stretching we did last week felt so good and was totally relaxing. And we did it again this week but then followed it up with some yoga that could only be described as aerobic. And anyone who knows me knows I'm not down with the aerobics. But, this is the class, and I love it for what it is, and I'm going to give it my all.

That Quotes and Convos excerpt from my conversation with Sean (TAMUROCKS) has gotten me thinking. Maybe there should be a Miss Quoting Pageant. That would certainly be more entertaining to watch than the Miss America Pageant. She could go up to the mic and the announcer would say, "1 minute on the clock, top ten answers on the board. Chris Farley." And the contestant would say, "I've been using your product for a year now, and I'm still excited. They have a thin candy shell, I'm surprised you didn't know that. Hey Dad, I don't see too good, is that Bill Shakespeare over there? Lay off me I'm starving." And then the buzzer would sound and the results would be tabulated... God, thats a good idea.

Always one to try and share the wealth of visitors that I have on a daily basis, I have to announce the conception of another new blog. Chris (henceforth known as Topher ... his collegiate persona) has started a blog of his own. You can click here to read it, its pretty a pretty clever little page. Thats him up top in the cowboy hat for the one or two of you who haven't spoken to me in the past 4 months and don't know who he is. *wink*

So as I was walking back from yoga there was a young man, about my age, standing out by the ol' Sul Ross statue ... better known as the free speech area of campus. And right around as I got into the audible range, before I could make out individual words, I just knew that he was yelling about god or jebus or something. Nobody talks that loud in public unless they're spouting off some shit no one wants to hear. He was talking about how his friend went into a coma and he saved his life. Because the incompetant doctors with all their book smarts had said that if he recovered from the coma he wouldn't ever be the same. So this kid, being smarter than the doctors, started praying and cured his friend. Christ on a cracker, desperate people so often cling to desperate notions. I wavered between laughing, crying and wailing on him with my tennis elbow. But ultimately, I did nothing but ignore him, as I do most people on campus.

Speaking of, kind of funny. My friend Charlie is a senior in the corps. Don't ask how I got mixed up with a corps boy but I did. So I hear this corps boy (they all look the same to me) yell, "Hey!" And I ignore him, of course. And then I heard it again. And I was thinking that he was probably upset about the fact that the patch on my bag says, "War is not healthy for children and other living things," ala John Denver's Whose Garden is This album cover. And we all know corps boys are not taught, but trained, so I figured he was reacting to the stimulus of rationale. But then he finally caught up to me, boots clanking the whole way and grabbed my shoulder. He's lucky I'm incapable of inflicting any harm, unwilling to exert myself, untrained in any self defense, and lacking all sense of reflexes, or I might have flipped him over and put him in a hold. Damn lucky. Instead, I realized that it was my friend and said hi. Kind of anti-climactic, but I enjoyed the happy ending.

That's about all from the home front. I'm attempting to blog every day this week, but hesitant to make that claim cause I'll probably forgo one day this weekend. But I am starting to see my numbers steadily rise and I can only contribute it to my own dedication. So keep checking back. Peace out, you have nots.