TL: Midnight:

What is proper snooze button etiquette when you have roommates? We've discussed this as a house, and we've come to a compromise of 30 minutes if you're a heavy sleeper that lets the alarm ring forever (longer than 5 minutes) before turning it off. A quick turn off (within 5 seconds) and you're allowed an hour.


That sounds fair. Anyone who lets the alarm just fucking ring forever should be poisoned.


What the fuck is with bars of soap? Do you know people who still use them? I personally think they are disgusting. My girlfriend's parents only have bars of soap in the guest shower at their house and I fucking hate it. Have you ever smelled a bar of soap after you have washed your gooch and brown star? Smells like a dead baby.


You also get that gross underside to the bar if it's been sitting wet in the soap dish for a long time. Looks like it has pus on it. My folks have no liquid handsoap in their bathrooms. Just bar soap. AND they have hard water, so I have to sit there for eight hours trying to get a lather. I'm getting them a bottle of Kandoo for Mother's Day.


So back in the fall when H1N1 hysteria was sweeping the nation, the admin people at my office decided to put bottles of hand sanitizer on every bathroom sink. And, four months later, I just had a sickening revelation: There are people out there, whether they be lazy or just uninformed, that drop a deuce, tidy up the bunghole, then take a dollop of hand sanitizer and walk out of the bathroom. That stuff does not remove poop from your hands! It is not a replacement for soap and water! I understand that, if your hands are otherwise clean, it will kill any microscopic germs still present.


It doesn't take the poop off? Then what good is it?

Confession: I go to a gym where dudes will fucking CAMP OUT in front of the sink. They'll shave, brush their teeth, floss. They'll treat the fucking place like it's their home bathroom, which drives me nuts. So sometimes, I go to piss or shit, and all the sinks are occupied when I finish, and no one at the sink appears to be leaving any time soon. So I hit the Purell and go to work out. And I know damn well everyone in the bathroom just saw me do that and thinks I'm a pig. I don't care. QUIT HOGGING THE SINK IF YOU DON'T WANT POOP ON THE TREADMILL.


Kristofferson KrisKristofferson:

Ever walk right behind a really big guy in a crowded place (e.g., subway station, airport, mall) and imagine that he is an offensive lineman clearing a path for you? I do this and sometimes have the temptation to start pointing out people to block.


And if two fat people are in front of you, you can split them and pretend to break into the secondary.

I feel so naughty passing two people who are together by splitting between them. Feels like I violated them. It's thrilling.



If you owned a boat, what would you name it? One of the questions we roundtabled was what we would name a boat if we happened to own one. The best answer was "fuck ranger".


Sea Baron.


Here's a situation I find myself in all too many times. I go to the bathroom to wash my hands, and while iIm washing my hands, I realize I hafta piss, so I take piss, and then I debate if I want to wash my hands again. I usually end up doing the "stick my hands under running water just long enough for them to get wet" thing because THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY I'M WASHING MY HANDS WITH SOAP A SECOND TIME IN 30 SECONDS. What's the call here?


I'm worse. I'll go piss, then go to wash my hands, and then realize I STILL HAVE PISS LEFT TO GET OUT. Then I'll go back to empty and shake, and then NOT wash my hands. Wash your hands to often, and you get dry skin! IT'S TRUE!


The post about the messy bottle of Edge shave gel from last week's mailbag reminded me of the miracle bottle of Nivea I currently own. It is truly the anti-Edge. I shave 2-3 times a week, and have been using the same 7 oz. bottle for over a year.

That is not an exaggeration. Every time I have shaved in the last 8 months I have shaken the bottle and expected it to run out on me, but it slowly squirts out just enough for a decent shave every time. The thing never ends! I don't know if all Nivea bottles are like this, or if I just got some freak product that was exposed to radiation on the assembly line, but shaving has become like performing some ridiculous magic trick in my bathroom every couple days.


/goes to buy magic Nivea shaving cream dispenser


Ever leave your slippers (or socks, if that's how you roll) next to the heat vent at night? Next morning, it's like putting your feet in a toaster. Awesome.


I concur.


Ever get one of those sinks that runs for about 5 seconds then shuts off? You have to keep putting your hands in the right spot. But of course, that spot is nowhere near the water so you have to do this 10 times to get one good wash.


Those sinks are terrible, especially the ones in the airplanes where you have to push down really hard to get the water to come out, and then the stream IMMEDIATELY begins to fade, and it's so weak you can't rinse the soap off. Total bullshit. Why do these people assume I'll just callously waste water if I can control the faucet output? I'm not gonna leave that shit on forever. Annoying.


Can you egghead writers band together to permanently rid the world of those annoying Roman numeral pages that don't apply toward the page count of the book? Half the reason for reading is straight-up CONQUERING numbered pages — it's why you get that smug sense of satisfaction turning past a round number like 100 or 200. It's just not the same with Roman numerals, especially ones that are wussified by italics. Plus, some authors have the nerve to strap you with a 30-page preface, then they start the first chapter on page fucking one. So after 30-45 minutes of laborious page-turning (time I could spend watching TV) I'm STILL only at the beginning. That's as twisted as marking the third mile of a marathon Mile 1 just to demoralize the runners.

If I had my druthers: Title page is Page 1, then a blank page, then text starts on Page 3. This way, even if I only make it through the first sentence I feel like I've accomplished something. "Holy shit, three pages!"


Agreed. Although usually, those passages marked with Roman numerals are part of a FOREWORD, written by some other fuckhead telling you how important the book you're about to read is. I'll just skip right over that shit. I agree that I don't like books that have a preface that ISN'T FUCKING OPTIONAL. Like, it's really the beginning of the book, only it's not the official beginning of the book. Dude, this isn't a Bond movie. You don't get to stage some critical action sequence prior to the opening credits. All prefaces should be optional, or else they should just be labeled Chapter 1.

Mark M:

I'm 24 and live on my own and felt somewhat bad continuing the practice of letting my parents pay for every meal I ate out with them. Recently I attempted to pay and got rebuffed, much to my delight since I didn't actually want to pay. At what age or point in your life do you start to put up a legitimate attempt at paying for a meal with your parents?


I always put up the most half-assed effort to pay you've ever seen. I don't even get my wallet out. I just sort of start reaching for it and giving my Dad a look and he'll shake me off. "Are you sure, Dad?" "Yeah, I got it." "Well, all right. Fine then." I'm 33, and my folks still pay for my meals. It's pathetic. I paid for lunch ONCE with them. I planned it out, like, a month in advance. I even gave the card to the host before we sat down, to prevent a war of insistence. They were touched by my generosity. Since then, FREE SUSHI FOR DREW!


Are you crazy? You think when I walk up to the pearly gates, God will be waiting there with a DVR of girls I could have banged? That shit bugs me to death now, you think I want to be tortured for eternity thinking I could have had ten times as much sex had I gotten off my lazy ass and just gone for it? Sounds like the 7th circle of hell to me... having to go back and watch my lame self talking to a girl for a few minutes before pathetically walking away, only to see her getting off to me later. WHY WOULD I WANT TO KNOW THAT?!?


Yes, but I always assume that when you get to Heaven, your state of mind is such that nothing bothers you. Everything is wonderful and all of your cares are lifted away. Basically, I assume that, in Heaven, you are drugged.


So I'm sitting at my shitty work-study job entering professor's addresses and phone numbers into a spreadsheet for God knows what reason. Anyway, while I'm doing this I've begun to realize that I tend to judge people based on how their address sounds. For example, one guy's address is 5280 Aztec Drive. That guy's house sounds fucking awesome.

Further down the list, another professor lives at 10 Benton Street. That guy's house sounds fucking lame. Just try saying them out loud, 10 Benton Street sounds like the location of a crack den, whereas 5280 Aztec Drive sounds like the location of a three-story chateau. I'm sure both of them have perfectly luxurious houses, but if I was invited to a cocktail party at both houses, I'm going to 5280 Aztec Drive.


That makes me feel good about my current address: 69 Battlecock Boulevard.

I'd love to live on Aztec Drive and tell the contractor to tear down my house and build a sun pyramid on my land. Imagine living in a sun pyramid and living on Aztec Drive. People would drive by and be like, "HOLY SHIT! THERE ARE REAL AZTECS ON THIS ROAD!"



I work in sales, so I'm constantly on the phones. A few times a year, I find myself waiting for someone to answer or a voicemail to pick up when I feel a monster sneeze coming on. You know, the kind that starts with a little tickle in your sinuses, and ends with you taking 3 full inhales of air before completely blowing that shit out in a violent force that would cause any nearby refugee to scream in fear. There's nothing worse than one of those building as I'm listening to some jackass's voicemail greeting, just hoping and praying that fucking "beep" will come so I can sneak in my contact info before hanging up and unleashing hell.


Even worse is doing it right after the other person picks up. "Hello, Empire Carpet? I was calling to… wait a second… HOOGAHHHHHHHH!!!!!! HOOGAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Anyway, I wanted to see if you had any remnants in your showroom."


One of the benefits of getting married was that I no longer had to deal with mail!!! I HATE FUCKING MAIL!!! For all the tree-huggers out there, we can solve the world's problems by limiting people to maybe 1 piece of mail per week and cutting down 1/8th of the trees. Does anyone under the age of 75 find more than maybe 5 pieces of useful mail each year?


Agreed. I also let my wife handle any and all mail duties. I'm such a dick. When the mail arrives, I sort through it for checks or my magazines, and then I leave poor Mrs. Drew to deal with the rest.

The other thing I look for: my college bulletin. Whenever I get my college bulletin, I immediately flip it open to my class' notes and scan for my name. Then, if my name isn't there, I scan for any other names I know. Then I throw the piece of shit out. Oh, look at that. David Kim got married! That's nice. TRASH.


/went to a dipshit liberal arts school that sends out a bulletin

Biz v. Nuge:

Am I the only one incapable of operating the water spouts on refrigerators without making a mess? The damn thing always sprays a little longer than I hold the glass there.


They're so VIOLENT, aren't they? They just attack the bottom of your glass. I put a Dixie cup under my folks' fridge water thing once, and the initial contact sounded like a fucking snare drum.

Am I also the only one that uses the edge of the cabinets to open them, rather than the handles? I have no idea why I do this.


Because the handles are often so tiny, they don't really accommodate your fingers.

Is it possible to wash measuring spoons without water spraying everywhere? And don't say to turn down the water pressure - I need that shit on full blast at all times.


Yup. I get the front of my shirt wet from washing spoons at least twice a week.

Is there anything more aggravating than when a DVD player ignores your pleas to 'skip' or 'return to menu'? It just displays that evil red x and laughs at you.



My DVD player is even more passive aggressive. It says THAT OPERATION IS NOT ALLOWED RIGHT NOW. Dude, I paid for you. I OWN YOU. FUCK YOU. LET ME SKIP THIS SHIT.


Also, some DVD menus take 90 fucking years to fully load. Like, I got one DVD the other day, and there was this long and elaborate introduction to the fucking DVD menu. And it wouldn't let me just skip ahead. Fucking DVD's. I'm going OnDemand sooner rather than later.


Fuck you and the Vikings, Drew.

Again, tough but fair.


Is the whole losing weight and getting in shape for the wedding/honeymoon worth it? Has anyone EVER kept in shape afterward? Are we kidding ourselves thinking we can?


For you, the groom, it's a waste of time. No one gives a shit about you or how you look. You barely have to wear pants. Everyone is too busy looking at the bride and judging her for her dress and figure. My wife looked terrific at our wedding. I looked like a beached seal.


Ever urinate in the shower before you actually step in? I get the urge shortly after the water is cut on, but before it has had ample time to warm up. Meanwhile, I'm standing right there in perfect position staring at an inviting drain target. This all goes down within an arms reach of the toilet, yet feels completely logical.


And hitting the drain is so satisfying, isn't it? If you get it right in one of the little drain holes, feels like you made a basket.

James in Mass:

I had a lesbian friend in college, and one night while talking to her partner she explained that sometimes you've gotta spice up the lesbian sex, since just going down all the time can get old, then showed us her new anniversary grooming job: She shaved everything except for the left labial area - in lesbian circles this is known as the "Tom Selleck."


That makes no sense. If you only left the top of your pubic area unshaved, THEN you would call it the Tom Selleck.

Imagine that. Imagine shaving all your pubes except a mustache at the top. That would scare the shit out of anyone who saw you naked.



In college, I spent one summer hiking around New York State. I started at Niagara Falls, spent the better part of two months wandering around the Catskills and Adirondacks, and finished off by following the Hudson into NYC, where I was catching a bus back to Boston.

That last day of the trip, I'm sitting on the can at the Port Authority, getting reacquainted with the magic of flush toilets, and some dude pounds on the stall door.

"I know you're in there! Gimme twenty dollars."

"Twenty dollars?!? I don't have fucking twenty dollars!"

"Fuck you, man! I know you've got twenty dollars. I have a knife."

Shit. I've been in the woods for two months, avoiding bears, bugs, and who knows what else, and now I'm gonna get stabbed by a bum because I just spent my last ten bucks on a bus ticket.

"I'm telling you man, I don't have twenty dollars."

He kicks the door in. I'd have shit myself at that point, but I was already on the throne.

He looks at me: dingy frame pack, scraggly 3-inch beard, dick between my legs, no sign of having showered since June.

"Shit, dude! You really don't have twenty dollars. Sorry about that."

And with that, he was gone.

Holy shit. I'm never going back to Port Authority.