Today, as a service to our readers, I present to you the following "Clip N Save" section.

"What the stuffed animals on your dashboard say about you."

Much like people analyze the content of their dreams, I have come up with a way to determine someone's personality by merely looking at the number and type of stuffed animals they have displayed inside their cars.

I know, you've been dying for this stuff.

You're welcome.

Here we go:

***** Cut here *****

"She looks like my ass."

The above little gem was spoken to my wife as we walked (I'm sorry..as SHE DRAGGED ME) through a local department store.

I hate shopping.

I would rather watch a lesbian porn movie starring Rosie O'Donnell and Janet Reno than go shopping.

Unless it's shopping for a TV...

...then you can replace Rosie and Janet with, say, Carmen Electra and Scarlett Johansson.

The chicks go crazy for guys who can hoist soup cans...

...two at a time.

So. Hot.

I began therapy this week (no..no...not mental or sexual (but not like I couldn't use either)) for my shoulder.

I hate physical therapy.  I've done it before.

It worked so well the first time, that my shoulder apparently decided that it missed it and wanted to go back.

But I digress...

Raisins are People.

Don't believe me?  Yeah...probably a good idea.

However, when you have children, there's all kinds of things you can corrupt their minds with.

Lying, I find, is the fastest and most efficient way to do this.

I smell like a goddamn fruit basket.

Let me explain.

I was taking a shower the other night, as I'm sometimes wont to do, when I realized that it was my monthly duty to use some type of soap product.

(Usually, I just wash my hair, and then let the soap clean me off via gravitational pull as it drains down my body towards the sperm-clogged drain (hey...first things first))

I looked down at the soap dish in the shower (after five minutes of trying to remember where it was), and saw a simple, sad, soap-Chiclet sitting there.

I'm not that picky.

No, I'm not talking about my penchant for cheap, ugly whores.

I'm talking about my coffee.

I was listening to the radio the other day, when a coffee commercial came on. 

One of the jackasses getting paid more money than I do to talk about a F*CKING BEVERAGE said:

"..it means I like 100% Arabica bean coffee."