To discuss a new poll on Capricorn's crush, and some news

It's time to take down the body parts poll, after a very convincing win by the ladies. I'm man enough to admit that man junk pain isn't enough.

Which body part causes the most issues?

Manpiece: Pops up at wrong time	6 (13%)
Ladybits: Two words: Child Birth	39 (84%)
What if I have both?	1 (2%)

The new poll, which is more of a quiz, will test your knowledge of Capricorn. She blew me away the other day with a piece of information I never would have guessed. She revealed she's always had a celebrity crush on...

A) Mario Lopez. She never fell for Zack Morris. She was an A.C. girl all the way, down to his curly mullet, his dimples and his unheralded dance moves. She even forgave him for trying to become the Latino Ryan Seacrest. And for cheating on the Doritos girl.






B) Charlie Sheen. She loves a guy who is a bit dangerous, and what's more dangerous than a penchant for hookers and Denise Richards? He has a top rated show, a full head of hair and likes to wear bowling shirts- what's not to love?





C) Christopher Walken. Capricorn said he was so sexy in that Weapon of Choice video where he was dancing all over the place. Plus, he puts his pants on, one leg at a time like the rest of us. The only difference is, when he's done, he makes gold records.




D) James Earl Jones. She just can't get that deep baritone out of her mind when she sleeps at night, with thoughts of Darth Vader, King Mufasa, and "This is CNN," nestled in her dreams. And he probably has a nice light saber, too.





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I started a new work blog yesterday. It's similar in style to Wild ARS, except newspaper approved... which is much, much tougher to write. The big difference is, I actually get paid to write it (in addition to my regular duties).
If you do check it out, it will have content that's exclusive and not repeated on here, so think of it as bonus director's cut, except the director's cut is cut for families and not for unrated, boob-filled extras.
I'd love for any of you to stop by from time to time, as it might make the appearance to my bosses that I'm doing something productive and meaningful, instead of looking up James Earl Jones' portfolio.
But, since I do try to keep work and this personal blog apart, try not to specifically mention this blog in any comments, just in case they start wondering (I didn't think of that until well after I put up my first post). If you send me an e-mail, Twitter message or leave a comment on here asking for it, I'll give you the url...

And thanks for all of your support on Wild ARS- I'm nearing the six-month mark on Feb. 1. Six months of these shenanigans. Plus, my birthday is Feb. 6... So, for next week, if anyone would like to do a guest post on here (maybe even a play by play?), let me know- it'd be a nice way to celebrate.
Update: Here's the link to the new blog. I wasn't going to include it and assume everyone would want it, but hey, might as well. Remember, mum's the word on Wild ARS. Actually, Capricorn's usually the word on Wild ARS, but I digress.

To discuss what I would do if I sang out of tune, would Blog stand up and walk out on me

Man, I wish I had Daniel Stern in my room right now. You know, the tall burglar from Home Alone. Not because I want to hit him in the face with an iron-- even though I do, I really do-- but because he was the narrator on "The Wonder Years." Did you know that?* I could really use the services of a narrator right now, because now that I managed to keep up this blog for a month (how have any of you kept it up longer than that?), I need a pensive, thought-provoking moment to reflect on what I've learned about blogging, about life and about me since Aug. 1.** So, 10 things I've learned, narrated by Daniel Stern with Kevin and Winnie making out in the background, even though Winnie was never that hot and Kevin should've stuck with that fine girl he met on summer vacation and kissed by the pier.... oh, um, anyway:

1. Bloggers refer to each other by their blog title, not their actual name. When I went to the Harrisburg blogger meeting, most of the bloggers referred to each other by their blog title. How embarrassing that my blog title sounds like a six-year-old came up with it.
2. There are days when I look more forward to what I'm writing in my blog than the actual writing I get paid to do as a journalist. The problem is that no one will pay me to write about The Hills and my fake TV girlfriends, but they will pay me to write about school board meetings. Which would you rather read about? Exactly. Fortunately, I do love my job. Maybe they'll let me write about The Hills as an education piece about the decay of adolescent society. Hmm.
3. I forgot how much I like writing funny stuff. You have to remember, I've written hundreds of news articles the past few years, and rarely wrote anything else. So, the fact I can write about my failed relationships for your enjoyment is pretty kick me in the crotch fantastic.
4. Blogging and Twitter are much faster, easier ways to keep people updated on what I'm up to than actual conversation. Because, really, talking is slow. It also involves listening, and, hell... wait, what did you say?
5. AOL instant messenger now seems prehistoric. I will tell my kids (the ones I'll adopt from Africa to save them from Angelina Jolie) one day that back when Daddy was 12 or 13, he talked to girls on AIM every day. There was no Facebook to find friends on...In comparison, I've read many of your blogs and commented back and forth with you, and already feel like I know you the same way I would have if we talked on AIM. And that's all without the needless Dateline host busting in on my house to ask me if I know how old you are. (You are legal, right?)
   
6. Reading blogs every day takes up a lot of time. I'm now trying to remember what I did with myself when I wasn't trying to keep tabs on everyone's posts. I think I walked my dog more, because I remember more urine ending up outside than in my kitchen.
7. I hate HTML. I never had to mess with that crap before. Now I'm installing widgets and trying to figure out what the numeric value of a color is and hyperventilating and wishing I wasn't so mildly aroused at the thought of formatting templates.
8. Writing about everything that happens to you means everybody knows everything that happens to you. Which means there are some things I've written about here that only a few people knew about before, and now it's out for everyone to read. I figure I might as well be honest... but if my mom ever reads this, she'll talk about me in a hushed voice and take me away to an undisclosed location. Pray for me. (BTW- My mom's actually awesome. But she does talk to cats)
9. Sitemeter, just like a Jennifer Love Hewitt movie, is the bane of my existence. Despite knowing exactly what the results will be (daily visitor totals/mediocre acting), I can't help but incessantly check out what's going on (page view updates/cleavage) in hopes things are improving. But, invariably, it's usually about the same with no hopes of greatly improving (lack of talent on my part/lack of talent on her part). It's just that there are those rare days when I see potential and wonder, what if? (the day I had a huge spike from "Alicia Sacramone" searches/the day I watched "Heartbreakers" and found JLH charming and funny while she wore the tightest dresses possible).
10. (Slightly sappy part) Reading your comments often are a highlight of my week. To know that you find this stuff funny and relatable is great. To those who never comment- uh, dude, it takes like two seconds and you don't even have to register. You can make your username Ginger Rogers if you want to. In fact, do so.
    

* Bob Saget is also the narrator on How I Met Your Mother. I'm still holding out hope that the mother is Mary Kate Olsen (fingers crossed!).
** Don't worry. This won't be done seriously. And, to be honest, I don't even have pants on right now. True story. So, understand I won't get sappy on you.***
*** First off, I just triple-asterisked my double asterisk. Bam. That's never been done before in the English language, and I'm a little proud of myself right now. Second, I'm wearing boxers right now with footballs on them, but I'm usually a plain boxer-briefs kind of guy. What I want to know is what you, ladies, prefer a guy wear. Boxers? Boxer-briefs? Tighty-whities? Depends?

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Coming up soon- My tops of August- top movie, song, blog posts, etc. That gives you ample time to think of yours.

To discuss a second night in H-Vegas with other bloggers

I returned to H-Vegas last night.
It was a bit symbolic, since my first trip to Harrisburg at the beginning of the month was my first weekend of blogging. I was such a newbie then, so optimistic about the world, so naive about the dangers lurking and intrepid about blogging all the time.
Now, three weeks later, I'm a crack-ridden one-armed prostitute slinging around a dumpster baby. Oh, my fault. That's week four.
This week, I'm still optimistic.
I found a group of Harrisburg-area bloggers who have a monthly meet-up, presumably to talk about blog traffic, HTML or some other type of crazy online business in which my only conversational options would be to discuss how mentioning Alicia Sacramone's crotch has boosted my visitor total.
Fortunately, the meet-up, held at The Abbey Bar if anyone cares, turned out to be other regular people who made me feel a little less weird for writing my thoughts on a Web site and hoping people would read it. So, if I met you last night- it was great to meet you. What was your name again?
I do recall meeting a funny woman, Sara, who has been successfully blogging for several years about Harrisburg nightlife.
I didn't want to embarrass her at the time by citing my extensive online experience, but for years as a child I blogged about the nightlife in my small hometown of Portersville,* except back then I called it "passing notes on the church bulletin to see where the church barbecue was being held." Those were some crazy, Bible-filled nights. Sometimes, we'd even read Songs of Solomon. They talk about sex in there! (Guess Jesus missed that one...)
Being that I hadn't talked to a live woman outside of work in a while and the dead one is deteriorating quickly in the trunk of my car, I took advantage of the opportunity to talk to Sara (who, like most of my target blogging audience, is attractive and taken, so check, and, check).** I'm pretty sure my tale of my dog humping pillows was a winner, so the kid's still got it. For those counting at home, that's Andy 1, Checks-online-dating-services-and-watches-The-Notebook-alone 0.
I do hope to make it back to these monthly meetings, since it's nice to actually talk to people face to face instead of just through Twitter. That is, of course, unless my new church has a barbecue.

* Don't try to Mapquest it. It's very, very small. When I moved out, that reduced the population by half.
** I'm hoping Sara reads this and laughs. Otherwise, her boyfriend is likely going to come after me. And, well, I weigh 170 pounds and wear cardigans.

To discuss trying to go to sleep

I was going to take today off from blogging. Really. I've had about 25 posts in two weeks, which makes me feel like a prolific blogger on the level of perez hilton, and I don't even rely on celebrity crotch shots (that's year two).
But I couldn't get to sleep last night, which was a problem. I needed to get up for an early shirt at work, which inevitably leads the next morning to not shaving, taking ibuprofen and wishing I knew how to get speed (or find out what it looks like, for that matter). I know the horror stories, though. I know Jessie Spano took all those caffeine pills to stay alert and got 'So Excited,' but she crashed and burned and ruined the Hot Sundaes chance at fame. I don't want to hit that wall; that wall leads to doing "Showgirls" in a few years.

So as I tried to go to sleep, I turned the tv on. I could hardly believe the quality that I would have missed had I been asleep... A few selections:
1) Scream: Is it me, or is this movie not scary anymore? And I completely forgot Drew Barrymore is in it. But ever since "Scary Movie," all I think of is the guy with the mask doing the Budweiser commercial- "Chillin, killin." Plus, all the guy uses for scare tactics are calls to landline phones. He'd have to Facebook message me now, and even then, I'd have to constantly change my status on Twitter every time he stabbed me. It would just take up too much of both of our time.
2) Spanish TV- I wish my Spanish went beyond "Tu madre trabaja en la esquina," (Your mother works on the corner) Because I'm sure telanovelas have sweet dirty lies to tell. It is fun, though, to try to imagine what they're talking about. My guess is international diplomacy and nuclear physics.... Or how Pedro is sleeping around with Maria again. Pedro es un idiota.*
3) "Roll Bounce" starring Bow Wow and Meagan Good. A movie about black kids roller skating. Cause that's gangsta, Bow Wow. That's not quite what's meant by, "Everybody get your roll on." And Meagan, Meagan, Meagan. You used to be on "Cousin Skeeter." That show starred a puppet. Then you did Fiddy's "21 Questions" video, and that's the last time I saw you wear a shirt and pants at the same time.
4) Sisqo trying to make it on the reality competition, "Gone Country." Just to clarify here, this is an R&B singer who once crooned, "That thong tha-thong thong thong," trying to sing country.
5) "To Catch a Predator" re-runs. A snippet:
Host: "This is an online transcript of what you wrote to this 15-year-old girl."
Hapless Hornball: "Oh, no."
Host: "You wrote, 'I want to touch your sweet spot... I want to taste you.'"
HH: "Um, I was just kidding."
Host: "You wrote, 'I hope you're not the 5-0. Cause 15 will get me 20.' That's referring to you getting 20 years for being with a 15-year-old girl, correct?"
HH: (with a slight smile) "Well, I guess I'm getting 20 now."

You know what that guy got? Eight months. He got eight months in jail for telling a high school girl he wants to touch her sweet spot. And he had the harshest sentence out of all the guys- others got 30-90 days. WTF. I can practically get 30 days for not feeding my dog, writing bad checks or voting for Bush (actually, that gets you 4 years).
In related news, Hapless Hornball has already text messaged the Chinese gymnasts hoping to exchange Facebook pages and underwear.

Ok, that's that, although feel free to share late night stuff you've discovered.
A sweet post with a bit of a twist is coming up this weekend.

* My Latina friend, Logarithmic, pointed out that this sentence would mean Pedro is a she. What my friend doesn't realize was that, although my Spanish is terrible, I unwittingly outed Pedro after his sex-change operation. So, there.

To discuss this blog...

All the kids are doing it these days.... blogging, that is (oh, and the chronic).
So, to give me more opportunity to write for fun, to tell you about all the weird things that happen to me (including a review of incidents in the past that may or may not go down as legendary), I'm going to attempt to keep a regularly updated blog.
Think it's a good idea?
It's gotta be better than most of my ideas....
Anyway, although it'd be great if eventually this gets out past just my circle of friends, for now, I will rely on you who know me to leave comments and such.... because I already spend too much time on Facebook, so let's use this as a new opportunity!
Wait, I don't think kids use the chronic anymore. I think it's the X. Or is it syphilis?