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In a recent article I read, Spain is banning overly skinny models from fashion shows because they set a negative example for girls self image. All I can say to that is why you hatin’ on hotties Spain? Fashion models give girls a bad self image because that’s what they’re there for. Who you rather our young girls would look to for physical role models, Rosie O’Donnell? I think not. Girls need to have a low self opinion in order to motivate them to keep looking hot. If girls though that they had self worth no matter what they looked like then we’d be stuck with a bunch of egotistical fat girls. And who wants to work that hard just to get laid by a fat chick? Spain, I can appreciate that you like a little more bounce to the ounce, but please don’t discriminate against these young super hot skinny girls, it’s not their fault that they’re born perfect. Firstly if they aren’t allowed to be models what else are they supposed to do? Work a construction job. Please the first time they swung a hammer their thin arms would snap in half. Or maybe they should go to school and be doctors? How are the other students supposed to focus and study with such hot girls in class, I for one would have to drop out of med school do to all the chronic masturbation over my fellow skeletal students. But the real victims here are gay men. Obviously all the men in the fashion industry are gay, so of course they are going to pick the women that look the most like teenage boys. Tits and asses are like Kryptonite to gay men’s dicks. Show them a picture of Scarlet Johansson and their balls retract into their abdomens. All those feminine curves ruin the lines of their sleek new fashion designs. After all it’s their show shouldn’t they be able to pick the emaciated girl of their dreams? Quiet frankly I won’t allow these poor girls to be discriminated by you Spain. I have started a protest campaign with Kate Moss. It’s called Lines for Leanness. We’ll be doing over 200 lines of Coke in an hour in the bathroom at Spy Bar to raise awareness to our cause. Keep you heads up ladies, unless you’re too weak from hunger, then just lie on the floor and keep your chin in a slightly elevated position.

Dunkin Donuts, for those of you who don't know, serves more cups of coffee a day than any other retailer in the US, including Starbucks. The chain, which is more prevalent in Boston than any other and maybe all other food franchises together, boasts the slogan "America runs on Dunkin." This clever ad campaign uses a lot of catchy "They Might be Giants" songs, which have nothing to do with coffee or America, but never the less draws attention to the TV or Radio and more importantly to Dunkin Donuts. When I first moved to Boston in January I didn't get caught up in the hype too much. I wasn't a coffee drinker, rarely ate breakfast, and couldn't even tell you where the closest Dunkin' was to my house. Soon though, I became sucked in. After a few months of heavy drinking in my new city, I decided I needed a new cheaper vice. First, I contemplated cocaine, but decided that wouldn't be much cheaper or very convenient. Second I tried self-asphyxiation; it provided a nice buzz, but several times I blacked out and/or broke blood vessels in my eyes. Then in a moment of weakness to mass marketing, I stopped at Dunkin Donuts and bought my first Iced Coffee or "The Ice" as I've come to call it. Oh the joy! The sweet cold elixir ran easier down my throat then up the oversized straw they provide. The sudden infusion of caffeine to an otherwise caffeine desolate body created a huge rush. I could work faster and longer with better concentration than before. The Ice even provided the shakes that I was beginning to miss from my days as a functioning alcoholic. I was hooked. I couldn't start my day without Dunkin or The Ice. First it started as only a small cup every morning, but as my body built a tolerance to caffeine I had to increase my dosage of The Ice. Soon it was a medium Ice, then a large Ice. I'd grab a cup before I got on the subway and then again when I got to work. The Indian guy (dots not feathers) at my local Dunkins knew I was hooked and began pushing the extra shot of espresso on me. "Large Ice, cream and melted sugar" rang in my head as I slept. I frequented the Dunkins close to my house and work so much that the employees who didn't even speak English had memorized my debit card number. I was hooked on Dunkins and I loved it. But, like all love affairs this one must come to an end. Yesterday I had a root canal; a very painful and expensive procedure. Basically, they fill your cheek with Novocain. Then they begin to drill. If you are not numb enough, they will give you a second shot of Novocaine, but this time in the nerve of the tooth itself. Once you are so thoroughly numbed that your eye on that side won't focus, they begin the removal of the nerve pulp in the center of your tooth. All-in-all it wasn't the worst procedure I've been through. The Endodontist who performed the procedure was very nice, although he was a little surprised that I had brought my own dental dam. In fact, the most painful part was the bill at the end. For 45 minutes of agony I was presented a bill for $1050.00. Holy Shit! For that much money I should be allowed to kick the Dr. in the nuts or at least be allowed to give him a blow job. Where does this fit in with Dunkin Donuts you're asking? Well obviously, it's not my fault I needed a root canal. So it must be the food item that I consume the most; Dunkin Donuts and "The Ice". That sweet sweet goodness must be responsible for my pain and agony. It couldn't have been the years of not brushing and flossing properly, or the fact that I let a bad filling go for over 6 months. Just the idea that this problem wasn't anyone's fault but mine is ridiculous. It's my tooth and my money so I should decide to where to place the blame, right? Not only that, but pointing the finger and placing blame is probably America's favorite past time. If our president and politicians and business leaders can obviously redirect blame and fault from their own laps onto others', why can't I? It's not like I'm telling the world that Dunkin Donuts is responsible for the deaths of thousands because they didn't prepare for a hurricane (not that I can prove anyway), or that Dunkin Donuts started a war because it thought that Iraq (A country that does not have any Dunkin Donuts) was harboring weapons of mass destruction. I'm just saying that my addiction to their Iced Coffee has caused my tooth problems. So does America really run on Dunkin like the ads say? If America runs on Dunkin by drinking its caffeine laced drinks and eating its fat filled breakfast sandwiches, then I don’t know. There are only 3 Dunkin Donuts in Cleveland that I can think of compared to the 4 I walk by just on my way to work in Boston. Or does the slogan "America runs on Dunkin" a metaphor for how Americans are so proficient at placing blame and redirecting fault? America runs on Dunkins because it sleeps better at night knowing that nothing is ever their fault? America runs on Dunkins because it knows most of the time it will not be held responsible for its actions? America runs on Dunkins because our government has established a history of using scapegoats for very serious crimes? This question is one of debate and importance that may never be answered. All I can say for sure is that I need to run out to grab some Tylenol for my tooth, and some of "The Ice" for my conscious. Š

For the past few months, I have been thinking about working out. After many searches, I decided to join a club exclusively for women. I'm generally not usually into all the girly "Girl Power!" stuff that they do, but it fits my purpose and it's literally up the street, so I have no excuse not to go. This past Monday I went to the branch that is about a 10-minute drive from my house because my branch was closed. I was half-heartedly greeted by an fat employee. Now, I don't have any room to talk because, according to every BMI chart (and my mom), I'm classified as overweight, the category just above "normal" for women. However, if I'm classified as "overweight", then this employee is definitely classified as "morbidly obese." Being half-heartedly greeted by this employee was a little discouraging...and made me a little angry. It's not like all the employees at my home branch are in the greatest shape, but at least you can see that they are making an effort to work out and lose weight and inches. They are all also very motivational, which everyone can use once in a while. Maybe it's because it was Labor Day and she didn't feel like working. Whatever. Deal with it...fatty. On the days that you want to get a really intense workout, you put on a little pink dot which lets the employees know that you want your chops busted on that particular day on all the machines. I usually don't take the dot because I don't do well with people barking at me as I'm trying to concentrate on exercise. I just try harder on the circuit. Well, several people walked in putting the pink dot on their bodies. This same employee acknowledged that they had the dot on, and went back to sipping her diet pepsi behind her little desk. WTF! Wrong on many, many levels! So, there was no one on the circuit even making sure that any of the ladies were even doing the exercise correctly. Thank Buddha no one had a heart attack, because the employee wouldn't have even noticed and I would have had to revive them with my nursing super powers. I'm not asking for all employees of this franchise to be like the lame Xenadrine commercials that are out there. I'm not a fan of the other exercise franchises that cower you into buying a membership and then when you end up working out (on the days that your self-esteem is willing to take several blows), you are surrounded by sweaty people working there muscles hard, neckless men (and some women) making love to his/her own image in the mirror while working the dumbbells, and the employees busting your chops at every single machine that you attempt (when they're not doing that, they're making fun of you with other fellow employees). But I digress. Shouldn't there be some kind of weight restriction on employees of major exercise franchises?

News broke today out of a German conference on male illnesses that heated seats - a popular option in luxury cars for the last decade or so - may be to blame for reduced sperm counts (via) and may do even more damage than tight pants. Ha ha. That's a funny story, you may think. But you're wrong! This has many implications, reaching down to the class warfare level, and could drastically change the socioeconomic landscape. While heated seats, like most ergonomically oriented automotive features, originated in high-end luxury cars, you can now find the option in many less-than-luxury cars, such as the Volkswagen Beetle. But it remains an option almost across the board, and usually as part of some comfort and convenience option package, which increases the cost of entry into heated-seat playerdom. So, really, it's only the people with disposable income who are toasting their tushies and roasting their chestnuts. And to take it further, it's only the smarmy bastard rich jerks who like to soak their balls in radiant comfort, prolonging the potential damage to Mike and Ike. Up until now, I thought the mood to do so was like caviar - something I'd never understand about their extravagant culture, but harmless. At first blush, lower sperm counts among the filthy rich peanut abusers seems good. Less of them in the future equals more wealth to distribute among the lower and middle classes. But as long as we hold to the paradigm that more education correlates to richer jerks and that more education correlates to less baby-producing, then rich jerks already have dealt with and overcome the problem of infant underproduction and retention of wealth. The real problem comes with the uneven distribution of bunburners. If the poor have to make do with 1985 Cavaliers - sans assheat - then they will reproduce out of proportion to normal society and overwhelm the middle classes by sheer force of numbers. They will demand more resources - resources that the rich will refuse to release from their ever-decreasing ranks (due, of course, to chodal climate change) and which the middle class will be forced to relinquish. Eventually, it'll come down to the haves (having of pubic ignition, that is) and the hordes of chilled netherregions. Stopping this is simply a matter of convincing the automotive aftermarket to offer free crotchal calidity to every Wal-Mart shopper, to every Eminem downloader and to every citizen of Morrow County, Ohio. We can do it. You can help.