Mike Seaver's buddy

When the Comcast guy came to our house and set up our wireless network, he instructed my roommate L.N. to create a network connection. Asked what to name it, the Comcast guy told him, “anything.” L.N. looked at the guy and said “anything?” Now, anyone dialing into the wireless network of our building has the choice between attempting to connect to “dillon1313,” “2WIRE721,” and “scottsvagina.”

I was with my buddy the other day making a beer run at the local grocery store when I noticed he was buying toilet paper along with his twelve pack of Bud Light. When he noticed me eyeing the T.P., he said to me, “Dude, I need this stuff bad. The last two times I have taken a dump I have decided to take a shower immediately afterwards.”

One of the guys in my fantasy football team named his team “A Tribute to Steve Irwin.” My roommate Gabe, when he played the guy, changed his team name to “A Tribute to Sting Rays.”

I just drove past “Tim’s Chinese Food.” Somehow, I have a sneaky suspicion that place might not be completely authentic.

The other day I bought some floss at the grocery store the day before my current spool of floss ran out. This made me happy. See, the last time I bought new floss I had been unable to tell how much floss was left, so I bought it like a month early. This time I got it right on. Little things like that really make my day.

I think if I were overweight I would avoid wearing “Phat Farm” shirts.

I really like fantasy sports. So much so that I once spent an hour making a logo with photoshop for a fantasy baseball team owned in a pretty competitive league by my buddy Kyle and I. I had to cut out a picture of Kyle, myself, and a chinchilla, and I wanted to make it look good and I don’t know shit about how to use Photoshop properly, so I spent forever carefully tracing all the pics so they would look good against the background. The thing is, that hour was on the night before my Legal Research final. Actually, I don’t know if that’s more indicative of my love of pretending to be a sports team owner or my complete lack of preparation for what I found to be the most boring class in law school. In possibly related news, I got a C- in that class.

I was in an elevator recently with my mom and my grandma when I saw a guy wearing a tee shirt that I couldn’t help but laugh out loud when I read. My grandma looked at me asked me what was so funny, but I just shook my head and told her nothing. I mean, come on, am I really supposed to tell a 79 year old women that I am laughing about the tee shirt that says “Mary was only a virgin if you don’t count anal”?

I think the sign of a nice hotel is whether or not there is a phone in the bathroom. If you can order room service while taking a dump, that’s officially a fancy place. And darn convenient.

There is this guy who my roommate Alex and I always drive by on the way home from school who sits on a concrete median in the middle of the street and sells sunflowers, cherries, and other random fruit-looking things. Since I have seen him there, two questions have constantly come to mind every afternoon I drive by: shouldn’t he have some sort of permit for doing that, and, what the hell are those yellowish square looking fruit things? Well, today we had to take a test at school so we were making our usual weekday route home on the weekend, and I saw the sunflower/cherry/fruity-thing guy peddling his wares on a Saturday. I made a remark about the man’s impressive work ethic and Alex looked at me and said, “Scotty, poverty doesn’t take a day off.”

Football announcer Al Michaels, after partner John Madden pointed out that it was the birthday of both Michaels and a Giants defensive end that day, in a complete dead pan: “We’ll be going out clubbing after the game.”

Does anyone else wonder how appropriate it was for Mike’s friend on “Growing Pains” to be named Boner? Like, did that not mean an erect penis in the late 80’s?