It's just a matter of syntax, no?

Ava takes all her clothes off for no reason we can tell.

She then runs around the house yelling: "IM SO NAKED!…I'M NAKED OVER HERE…I'M NAKED OVER THERE…I'M NAKED IN THE HALLWAY…I'M NAKED IN THE CLOSET…I'M NAKED IN THE LIBRARY"!

It sounds like a deranged version of "Green Eggs and Ham".

She then walks over, turns and shows her butt to us and shouts:

"CHECK OUT MY HINEASS!"

Me: "Your What"!?

Renee: (understanding)…"Ava, it's two different words…hiney…or anus, there is no Hineass".

Ava: "There isn't"?

Renee: "No".

Ava: (thinks it over) "LOOK AT MY BUM"!

Why? how do others see me?

Sarah: "I'm at the jobsite this morning...Should be back around 11".

David: "I'll miss you, of course".

Sarah: "Awww! I expect a hug upon my return"!

David: "OK…but you shouldn't squeeze my ass if anyone is looking".

Sarah: "Ok - I'll try to be discreet about it this time".

David: "I appreciate it...I do have an image to maintain".

Sarah: "And what image would that be"?

David: "Im not entirely sure...sort of Han Solo crossed with Kermit the Frog

with a dash of Spongebob Squarepants".

What exactly is the speed limit here?

Dear Problem Guy...

So I'm on my way to the doctor the other morning, when as I approach a red light, I see that the car in front of me is a Cadillac from 1981. By that I mean that this vehicle appears so large that the front-end is not even in the same time zone as me.

Of course behind the wheel is an old man in a hat. I know its a cliche but there he was. I couldnt see him of course, just his knuckles on the steering wheel. They were ghost white from gripping the wheel so tight.

At this point I'm thinking I should just turn around and go home. Because there is no way this is going to end in my favor.

Stupidly I decide to make the best of it. Light turns green and we dont move. people behind me honk. He turns on his right signal. Doesnt move, then the left signal, doesnt move. Then suddenly he floors it. Of course he's driving an american-made behemoth of a car so for the first 10 seconds nothing happens. Then the engine kicks in and it sounds like the end of the world.

The car lurches backwards and slams into me. Then I see the hands flailing in the front seat. He grips the wheel again and floors it a second time. This time he shoots forward at a speed of no less than 8 miles an hour.

Because the car is so fuckin huge and slow. The light changes back to red just as he finally get across the intersection. The front of my car looks like it was used to transport frightened pigs across a mine field.

I feel myself getting too warm, then faint and then way back in the reptile part of my brain, I hear a snap...

I run the light and chase him down, driving into oncoming traffic just so I can get on his left side and crash him off the road into a nearby gas station.

He smashes into a pump and the explosion is so big, you could probably see it from the moon. The little gnome is french fries now and I couldn't be happier.

So...should I have gotten his insurance information?

Advice: Nope, sounds like you handled it in a mature and if I don't say so myself, very satisfying manner.

One more time...

Him: Hello, may I speak to Mr. Marchisotto?

Me: Maybe…it depends.

Him: On what?

Me: On whether you honestly have something to sell me that doesn’t involve a subscription to a some sort of demented niche magazine that no one wants to buy?

Him: "Well, we here at Salamander Fondler Aficionado don’t really see ourselves as a niche maga-"

Me: *Click*

Are you really sure this happened?

Dear Problem Guy,

With my therapists help, I recently uncovered some memories of a long lost trauma from when I was a four year old.

One night while my parents were hosting a party with friends, I was put to bed early against my will. So after the party got started, I snuck out of my room, took off my pajamas and jammed a giant wad of toilet paper in-between my butt cheeks.

Then I ran out into the living room and hopped around like a bunny rabbit.

I was captured, and not a moment too soon by my father who put me back to bed and locked me in for the night. Now then, since I was able to grab a handful of pretzels but none of the onion dip, can I sue my parents for millions of dollars due to my emotional distress?

Advice: Sounds like you should sue your therapist.

OK... let's try this again...

Tuesday...Phone Rings...

Her: Good morning…Mr…Mr…March..is..obba. How are you this morning?

Me: Well, first and foremost, its night…9:44pm to be exact, where the fuck are you calling from that the sun is out?

Her: (starting again) Oh, I apologize…sir Good evening…Mr…um..Mr. Marchi-

Me: Please, just tell me what you want and stop butchering my name”.

Her: (starting again) Ok…Hello…Good Night Mr. Mar-

Me: “Good night indeed”. *Click*

Wednesday – Take Two

Her: Good morning, Mr. Marchosataa, how are you this evening”?

Me: “Do you even listen to what you’re saying”?

Her: I would like to speak to you about your Chase Visa Credit Card.

Me: Is there a problem with my account?

Her: We have many new products available to hel-

Me: Is there something wrong with my card”?

Her: And we think what we offe-

Me: Listen. ANSWER MY QUESTION! Is there something wrong with my card”?

Her: Only if you don’t accept this great offer. 28% interest rate for 2,163 years.

Me: Ummmm......

Her: I know, right?

Me: My current interest rate is 9%.

Her: Oh, I see…well Mr. Mancheetos, I think th-

Me: *Click*

Nine One What?

Recently I was elected to become the Emergency Action Plan Warden for my company. I say elected in the same way I mean drafted.

Several of us were given a simple quiz:

1: In the event of a disaster, what would you do?

a. Calmly and cooly, gather the employees and lead them to safety.

b. Send an email to the staff announcing the disaster, grab my iPad and leave.

c. Yell "Outta my way"! and climb over the slower employees to get to the elevator.

I answered "a" and everyone else answered "c".

Which just goes to show how stupid I am.

We had an hour long presentation by a man who was clearly in his late 60's and somewhat unaware of the actual disasters that might confront a major city like Manhattan in this century.

For example since he grew up in the 50's he still thought it was possible to survive a direct nuclear strike as long as you hid under your desk.

He also mentioned that the subways were a good place to hide as long as the island was not swamped by the ocean at which point you would become part of a tremendously filthy permanent aquarium.

Also…It is not possible to survive a biological attack simply by holding your shirt over your mouth and later taking a shower.

Anyway, nothing he offered was of any help, so I wrote my own Action Plan...

Emergency Action Plan Instructions

Please copy and hand these out to your employees.

If you find yourself in a disaster be it biological, nuclear, chemical or even the threat of a polyester sale at Barney's, you can emerge safely from the situation.

What to do after the incident:

First: assess the situation, are all your limbs still attached to your torso, what about your head? Then awesome, there is a good chance you are still alive.

Second: is anyone around you hurt ? Do you like those people, if so don't steal their wallet and just leave. At least have the decency to prop their head up with some debris before you rob them.

Third: Wait for instructions from well-prepared authority figures. Of course it is likely those people will not appear and you will have to make do with some third or fourth-tier idiot who wasn't smart enough to just head home at the first sign a disaster was imminent.

Here are some of the high-tech ways they may contact you with further ways to harm or hinder your attempts to get home safely ...

With a little foresight on your part and some help from our elected officials, chances are your death will be a long drawn out, miserable painful fiasco and nothing short of the Hand of God will be able to save you.

So just relax, light up a blunt, smoke a little and don't get so worked up.