By George!

About ten years ago, Ryan Rado, Marcus Kingsland, and I went to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Why? Because we wanted to hang out with P.O.D. If you think I am kidding, let me tell you that I am not. The Fundamental Elements of Southtown had just come out and I was fat and listened to mall core. I tempered my love of all things baggy jeans and Adidas related with enough Sunny Day Real Estate to kill a horse. How Sunny Day Real Estate ever killed a horse, I don't know... but you get the idea. Life was very confusing and my love life was as exciting watching Double-A baseball. The three of us decided, on a whim, that driving to Pittsburgh at 11 on a Saturday night for a Sunday night show was a good idea. I was supposed to get a tattoo, I was supposed to do some physics homework, I was supposed to have a jolly good meal or four.

None of those things happened. I got my car broken into, failed my physics test the following week, slept on the back of a tour bus, and realized that Pittsburgh is really just like Detroit with a much better football team... and many more cops. Couldn't stop some dude from breaking into my car, though.

I ended up getting an email address. Called it ih8pittsburgh at hotmail dot com. I wonder if it still exists. Hmmm... If my stolen semi-legal internet connection offered more than one bar, I'd head over there and check it out. I do remember my password, too. I remember everything. Except... not really.

Okay, so Pittsburgh. I'm sure by now, you've all probably heard about the guy out in Pittsburgh who shot some folks at a gym. This is not funny. It's not... Dudes going out and shooting dudes is what happens in HEAT. That movie rules. Shit like that happening in real life is not cool.

I came across an article in today's Christian Science Monitor (because I read it all the time) about George Sodini talks about how he had a website. All about his lack of a dating life. All about how women rejected him. All about his sweet facial hair. I don't even know if I'm making that last part up. I haven't read his blog. Like how no one reads mine.

Yet.

World domination, here I come.

I feel bad for this guy. He was just a lonely dude, looking for love like (eh! EH! pretty fuckin' smooth, huh?). Hell, I've got to give the dude credit for at least going to stalking chicks at an aerobics class. He wasn't like so many other stalker-dudes-that-go-creepy like Mark Wahlberg in Fear. That move sucks, actually. Reese Witherspoon is creepy. Ask me about my "Reese Witherspoon has a giant light bulb for a head" theory some time. Ask me when I'm drunk. It'll be more fun for me that way.

All this dude needed was some chick to make out with him. And maybe talk about pro wrestling days gone by.