• Whenever I wake up early on Saturday mornings, I usually turn on those hippie financial shows on the FAUX NEWS CHANNEL (lolz) and listen to a bunch of people tell me how I should invest my money. This morning I got to see pro wrestler Bradshaw (or whatever he calls himself these days) give some investment tips, and he wasn’t that bad. In fact, out of the several people on this show he was the most professional one there, aside from his “Brokeback Mountain” reference to some company called “Bronco Drilling.” The other people on this show were too busy making wrestling remarks and came across as idiots. “OMG Bradshaw, the other guy sure BODYSLAMMED your stock tip.” “He doesn’t agree with your take on off-shore investments, don’t put him in a HEADLOCK?” Yeah, we get it, he’s a wrestler; we went through all these clichés when Jesse Ventura became governor.

• Finalists eligible for the NBA Hall of Fame came out, which is interesting because I didn’t realize this even existed. I also have no idea who is currently in this Hall, nor do I know what the process is in order to get inducted. It’s odd that a league which has been known for its stellar marketing and promotion of it’s players hardly registers a blip on the public relations screen for this event, which is always a front-page story whenever the NFL or MLB announce their annual inductees.

• There are some things that the better half and I disagree on. For example, whenever I have the remote control and channel surf, I zoom from station to station; she always complains because she never knows what’s on any of the channels I click right past. However, when she gets control of the remote, she stays on every goddamn station for 5-10 minutes, even the ones that you know are stinkers, like the 20 home shopping networks, the dozen Jesus channels that are hitting you up for money so Africans can learn about God or those public access stations that play oldies music while giving you the current temperature. Of course the only exception to her lengthily examination of each television program on the air is when there’s a sporting event on; she’ll click right through that, not even giving me time to see what the score was.

Anyway, I just discovered another thing that we disagree upon: the dishwasher. I never use nor trust these things, and I didn’t know why for the longest time. Maybe it’s the stupid guy thing about having a machine do something that I’m perfectly capable of performing (I’ll cut the “A real guy wouldn’t be doing dishes” line off at the pass and say it already so you don’t have to, ditto any “vibrator” references). Perhaps it’s because the first time I ever used a dishwasher I didn’t close it all the way and spent have the night cleaning up the soapy mess on the floor.

Earlier this month I think I may have discovered what the real reason is; while making myself dinner I went looking for a dish to put my food upon. The problem was there were no dishes in the cupboard. I asked the better half where the dishes were and she said, “In the dishwasher, stupid.” I went to get one out and she said that they weren’t clean yet; we needed to fill up the dishwasher before running the machine. Of course, in the meantime, while we fill up that cup section of the dishwashing machine I guess we’ll just have to eat our main entrees on the living room carpet, next to the cat chew toy shaped like a butterfly.

After I cleaned off a plate and ate dinner I went to put the plate back in the dishwasher. It was at this she yelled to me, “What are you doing?”

“I’m putting the dish in the dishwasher.”

”But you have to rinse it off first.”

“Huh?”

So in order to wash anything in the dishwasher you have to rinse it off first in the sink? Well with a little more effort you can clean the goddamn thing entirely. When I brought this up to the better half, I never really got an answer, which of course means I was wrong for asking the question in the first place.