Having recently vacationed in Florida (state motto: "If you're not old, get the f*ck OUT!"), I've realized something about restaurants.

In Florida, you're greeted - for the most part - by cheery, slim, attractive women.

In my state of New Hampshire, you're greeted - for the most part - by cheery, fat, muffin-topped disasters in tight shirts.

I'm not sure why this is.

I'm a guy.  And sometimes, when I pee, I pee standing up.  Men do that.  We do it because we can.  Because we were blessed with a penis and women weren't.

Some women think they can pee standing up but they can't (ask Mimzie ).  They cop a funky squat, aim as best as they can, and dribble it down their legs. 

A tidbit of news caught my attention last week.  It seems that an Italian scientist, named Emmanuele Jannini no less, has finally found the holy grail of orgasms.   Yes, that's right, he’s pinpointed the elusive G spot.

Why doesn’t it surprise me that he’s Italian?

I got my first cell phone for Christmas in 1993. It was approximately the size of my car and it came in a big, black zippered case. It had a cord.

Much like Zack Morris on "Saved by the Bell", I toted my phone with me everywhere and thought I was so awesome.

Seriously. That's how lame I am.

So my husband gets home from work and sniggers as he shows me a catalogue they gave him at work. He's meant to select a gift from it, which will be presented to him at an awards ceremony for five years of service at his company.

"Oh wow," I say, snatching the catalogue out of his hands. "They're giving you a free gift! Is it like something great, like a holiday in the Bahamas?"

"Not quite," he says. 

and I'm not afraid to use it!!

Dozens of people died when every single electronic device in the local hospital abruptly quit working Friday afternoon. Police say that, just before the event, witnesses spotted a visitor talking on a cell phone ...

A 747 jumbo jet crashed shortly after takeoff Monday, killing all but one of the 300 passengers. The lone survivor was found chatting on the cell phone with her old college roommate Barb ...

For all intents and purposes, the following is a suicide note.

Okay, I’m not really killing myself (you can stop emailing me the suicide prevention hotline number).  Well, not my physical self at least.   I am however killing off a virtual version of myself, so while it does deal with the ceasing of life it’s in the virtual and not literal sense.  I guess you could call it a WoWicide.