As many of you know, I have a roommate. A roommate and an assortment of people who crash on my couches for days at a time. (That’s right, COUCHES plural. I’m livin’ the good life, Baby!) Given that we’re all single, hetero males (With the possible exception of Brian, but that’s just a theory), the place can become quite a mess. I bring this up only because this morning, alright, this afternoon, the dishes reached critical mass and I wanted to eat something that couldn’t be eaten off of a stolen McDonalds napkin (and you other hetero males know that there isn’t much that CAN’T be eaten off a McDonalds napkin).

So I set about washing some of the dishes. Not ALL of the dishes, as I didn’t dirty ALL of them. In fact, most of the ones I needed to make my DiGiorno pizza were not dirtied by me, but I had to bite the bullet here. So as I enter the home stretch I notice that the water in the sink isn’t draining and I, for some insane reason, decide to find out why. The blockage, for the most part, was week old pizza crust from my last pizza left there by my younger sister. How do I know it was left there by my younger sister? Because even though she’s 19 years old she’s still the only person I know that won’t eat fucking pizza crust. She’s also one of the few people I know that will throw that pizza crust in the sink knowing that it won’t be noticed till she’s gone. This crime is doubled by the fact that the sink is RIGHT NEXT TO THE FUCKING TRASH CAN! Nobody else does this, and I live with a rather crude assortment of people, but they’re people that never throw anything in the sink that won’t fit down the little holes.

This is why I point out that we are heterosexual, not out of some latent homophobia. No, thing is homosexual men share something in common with heterosexual women (the example of my sister not withstanding) in that they have a tendency to clean up after themselves. Their clothes, bodies and environments have a tendency to be rather tidy, whereas a hetero male would live in his own filth in a cave if it had cable. Actually, looking around my place, it is rather cave-like…

So as I’m pulling out gooey bits of wet bread and all that has gotten stuck in it over the last week I find something wholly remarkable. I find a popcorn kernel. Now, a popcorn kernel is far from unusual in my kitchen. I love popcorn and I make it often. In fact, I’m something of a popcorn master, just ask the guys who live on the couches. No, what’s remarkable is the fact that it had sprouted. Not just sprouted, but sprouted and grown FOUR FUCKING INCHES TALL. That’s not counting the root. It was three inches. So, in revision, it was a seven inch popcorn sprout.

Anyways, the kitchen is a little bit cleaner, my sister has lost her food privileges, and I have a new houseplant. What’s my point? Hell, I don’t know, was I supposed to have one?

I’m Ford W. Maverick and I’ll see you in hell.