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Yay! Faxes, faxes, faxes ! I do G-d's work, people.

Sharon Bartel is currently ahead 1-0 in her marriage, having correctly identified Billy Joel (and not Elton John) as the "musician" responsible for "Captain Jack". The season's still young, Dave.

Hoo-ray for the International Jewish Conspiracy !

Here's my idea for a sitcom: each episode, another wacky plot involving the need to replace the tape on an answering machine to get rid of an embarassing message. It might have to be set in the '80s though, because I'm not sure tape-based answering machines still exist. I thought I had a television section–odd.

I was thinking that maybe I should buy a robot dog . Please dissuade me from doing this.

(Another fine movie review from Banana Lane. And I think it's a wonderful title.) Leonardo da Vinci's stock is up, up, up this year. Last year, the only reason he came up in most conversations was to make jokes about Leonardo di Caprio. But now an unassuming New Englander named Dan Brown has constructed a murder mystery around the Louvre's collection of the master's work, and The Da Vinci Code has been on the New York Times Hardcover Best-Seller List for 39 weeks as of this writing. What's more, Mike Newell's movie Mona Lisa Smile opened this weekend, allowing those who wished to tell Peter Jackson to shove his rings to do so. How appropriate that the most popular Western painting in history is being democratized. The screenplay for Mona Lisa Smile by Lawrence Konner and Mark Rosenthal takes us back to Wellesley College in 1953, although the classroom scenes were actually filmed in 309 Havemeyer Hall at Columbia, and I know cause I spent many a drowsy ...

(The following is a movie review from Banana, who's damn good at writing movie reviews and lovely emails and is a great person to go with to look for cameleopards. I've changed the name of her fiancé to "Petey" because I do things like that. Tangential to this post is that I went to see Big Fish last weekend and it was "pretty good.") The following is not a review. Much as twenty years ago medical researchers elaborated for modern readers the torture involved in Roman crucifixion, I am going to enumerate for you as an eyewitness the mental and physical punishments involved in watching The Worst Movie Ever Made. My project is clearly an autobiography, and therefore only incidentally a critique of Nancy Meyers's film Something’s Gotta Give , which many of you will enjoy, especially if you were born deaf and blind. I can actually pinpoint for you my epiphany. Somewhere around halfway through the romance between Erica the playwright (Diane Keaton) and Ha...

Although I'm partial to the donut shop on 86th & Lexington, at least Dunkin' Donuts has something going for them: most of their donuts are crustacean-free .

Man, I forgot to put on a belt today whilst getting dressed for work. I hate that. Guys look naked in business-y clothes without belts. A fool am I.

The big news this weekend being, of course, that Adam got a job. Once I get back from my trip down South I'll look for a place in Other Than Sea Gate now that I have a roommate. Insert your own joke about living in a hole here.

I was at the Met today with Banana and we saw a drawing used as a poster for some traveling animal exhibition that hit up Broadway & Broome St. back in the 1920s. There were emuses and elks and other things, and giraffes, but the giraffes were called "cameleopards," which we thought was really cute. So next time you see a giraffe, call it a cameleopard and be cute too.

I can't believe that they got rid of the Twizzlers from the vending machine on my floor. And I will not believe it.

Well, I'm going to come out and say it: I'm formally endorsing Ryan Ghan for President in 2020. Unless of course you have to be older than 40 to be President; there's really no telling. And I'm not just angling for a Cabinet-level faxing post, though I have no doubt that there will be such a position by 2020, and c'mon, who the hell else would even want it? I think he'd get enough votes to carry Carman, at least.

Hopefully someone will deploy James Baker XXXIV to the U.S. soon. And not just to steal an election. I'd enjoy the irony more if it weren't for the fact that we're all going to be really, really screwed 10 years from now.

Wow, this is brilliant. Try it out for yourself at Google .

Nice things about corporate holiday parties: All the Ketel One screwdrivers you can drink (in my case, like, 7) Salient fact about your corporate holiday party, iff your corporate holiday party happens to be my corporate holiday party: Whilst playing roulette at the faux casino, always bet on 34. Idiot. When 34 comes up on the second spin of the wheel, and you've bet on like, 14 and black or something, you're going to look like a huge tool. Especially when other people have actually bet on 34, and are the recipients of Big Payoff.

Despite what those clowns in the Macy*s men's department might tell you, suit sizes don't go 42, 43, 44, 46. They're a larigsh retailer struggling to stay relevant in an competitive marketplace, not arbiters of reality able to deem what they do not stock non-existant. So Mike and I went to Brooks Brothers and now we have kick-ass suits for the wedding. It's going to be a scene, man.