Love yer brain.

I can't download iTunes onto my work computer (which is totally fine) so because of that both tankPOD and diPOD have been getting lots of use, all day long. I've let the two of them pick the songs I listen to throughout the workday and I've got to say they each have EXCELLENT musical taste. Sometimes they (tankPOD in particular) like to totally fuck with me (the Sex Pistols' "Problems" right into Bacharach's "Alfie"? Genius!) but I'm totally up for that. However out of 10750 songs, why does tankPOD keep playing tunes off The Pooh Sticks' The Great White Wonder? That's just totally ridiculous.

I really like saying "totally" this morning, don't I?

Anyway, I was having a conversation (of sorts) with some fellow Chicagoist writers yesterday about a certain beer company's idea of what constitutes "a date" and I thought wistfully back to my days of bachelorhood and reconstructed the following scenario.

Steps to a Successful Date with Tankboy
(as told to the staff of Chicagoist)

Step One: Dinner
Step Two: Movie
Step Three: Miniature Golf
Step Four: Naked Miniature Golf
Step Five: Strip Croquet a la Heathers
Step Six: Light Bondage
Step Seven: Home-made Porn
Step Eight: Dessert

For the record, it should be noted that a certain Mr. Smith believed rather strongly that professional porn should be viewed with your loved one/one-night stand/booty-call before attempting anything of the amateur variety. I beg to differ. I think a natural progression of mutual discovery untainted by a professional deluge of ejaculations and sagging silicone packets is far preferable.

And there you have it. Won't you be so much happier when my brain has adapted to all the new info its processing during the new nine-to-five and starts working (semi-) properly again? I bet you will. I bet you will be much happier.