I love my mentor. we're discussing a stubborn problem, and I say over IM: "What if that doesn't work? Go to Florida and kick him?" And my mentor says, "No, you can't go, hire a kickman."

"Yo, Vinnie! We got a call! We're headin' over to Sarasota to kick a guy!"

Man, if I hadn't already had "I Want Candy" in my head, that would have done it for sure.

Guy waiting in dentist's office next door leaps over kid's head

"Candy, candy, candy, candy, candy..."

I admit, I have candy on the brain, because I have everything for my Secret Santa and just need to stop at Trader Joe's on the way home to get some candycandycandy (and their version of Oreos -- Trader Jo-Jos -- that have peppermint cream filling) and I can send out the package.

I had half of an eggnog shake from Jack in the Box. It almost negated all of my angst from the trip I had to make to the post office.

I so want a kickman at my beck and call.

But the printers just sent me wine. That'll do. For now.

It almost negated all of my angst from the trip I had to make to the post office.

I didn't get angst from my trip to the post office. I got distain. There were these feeelthy hipster late teen boys. Why can't they wash their hair? Why are their jeans so tight as to make blobs of flesh ooze over the waist when these are rail thin boys? When was the last time he washed that jacket? Can't they even try to look like they don't smell?

Why are their jeans so tight as to make blobs of flesh ooze over the waist when these are rail thin boys?

To average out the guys whose waistbands are nearer their knees than their hips.

But the printers just sent me wine. That'll do. For now.

Man, all I get out of my printer is stupid paper.

To average out the guys whose waistbands are nearer their knees than their hips.

Except! Except! One of them had his too tight jeans belted practically under his ass. He was doing both!

I just don't get it. There had obviously been effort made to look that gross.