I'D LIKE TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE -- TUB. OF. WASTE.

Congratulations to Snooki "Nicole Polizzi" Italian on her pregnancy. It takes a lot of guts and a relatively healthy penis and vagina to create a baby. People Magazine just released this exclusive ultra-sound photo:

"Congrats, it's an.... entity. Awwwwwwww"

I just got back from a week in Florida visiting my future mother of laws (I got engaged in December. I put the ring around a snake, then tied the snake into a ring, then put that around my neck. She cried weird, man).

We had a great time and I didn't even get sunburned because the whole time I wore a leather cat suit with "CREAMY STUD" etched into the back. Did I wear a hat? No, I just grew my bangs out and gelled them horizontally giving me a stiff natural, that not only keeps the sun out of eyes, but also gives me something to crunch with my fingers while I'm waiting for dinner to be served.

Did you know that the elderly in Florida have their own version of Gorillaz called Gaterz, which is a collaboration between Alan Thicke and Gary Larson? It's waltz music but with a sped up, jazzy vibe performed by a band of cartoons. There's:

Soup - Frontman. A cool flamingo who spends his nights searching for cola. He's got a very deep voice.

Sand Dollar - Bass guitar. A grandson who loves his pets. Has picture of ice cream sundae on shirt.

Deep C - Guitar. A fisherman whose guitar is shaped like a lighthouse. Married to a middle-aged mermaid ghost.

Cigar Ron - Percussion. A Cuban golfer who can take his eyes out and juggle them.

Most of their songs are about beach life but sometimes they mention pools.

In reality, we lied by the pool, shopped at outlet malls, marveled at foreign products in grocery stores and watched TV with commercials we'd never seen before. Do you think when Floridians come to our part of the world, they look at maple trees the same way we look at palms? We think palms are so cool, but I think I'd take a maple over one any day, even though I'm kind of bored of them. We just like palm trees because they scream "CORONA BEER BIKINI".

COME AROUND NOON, AROUND NOON, NOON

My hand is still strapped into a piece of mold-able plastic to keep my thumb from the dangers of city life, the most hazardously being potential thumbs up to those extra grungy pigeons who look smarter than teenagers and to local celebs who want to give autographs more than the public gives shits about them. But yeah, its functionality is returning!

My typing speed is back up to 900,000 bpm, and I'm slowly integrating my injured left hand back into my shower routine, meaning shampoo is being more evenly distributed over my baby sized/baby soft head and my right pit is getting the full soaping it deserves.

What does all this add up to? The return of the Jedi, "Jedi" being my old college nickname, given to me because I always got boners when I'd speak in front of a class. I got so tired of having to explain that I was hornier than crazy, that I'd pretend I was using the force to make it rise. I was later voted "Most Likely to Explode". School daze indeed.

Okay, so we're all back. First step of a comeback -- look at what you've done previously, beat the shit out of it and then try to remember the last time you saw Suburban Commando.

I've always had a hard time trying to figure out exactly what this blog is, which would explain rampant inconsistency, mostly due to battling with my inner-monologue over what's funny and what people want to read. Since it's been five years and over 500 posts, I don't think it really matters because as far as I can tell, Steven Spielberg hasn't read any of it, and any money I make outside of work is from selling fake Kate Gosselin autographed diapers to middle-aged women who only use the Internet to check postal codes.

What does that mean for you and your family? Much of the same! With my 1st meta-carpal bone now surgically repaired, I'm free to type until I learn backgammon, then it's allllll backgammon, baby.

Before the adventure continues, I just have to re-assure myself -- was my broke-ass paw a good excuse for writing next to nothing on this world-infamous website? Two new characters answer:

Sandra No'h

No, you could still type, granny style, and your brain wasn't all that effected by the whole thing.

This is true, but every humourous thought I had ended with "...but I ain't even got the thumbs for it."

No, you could've just typed short things that kept the audience interested.

Poetry is dead!!

No, you could've made little vlogs and posted those.

Nobody likes my voice. It was once likened to that of a "pre-pubsecant cat boy who is trying to imitate his gay dad"

Malcolm "Yes"

Yes brother, do whatever you do, there are no wrong answers, only wrong people with wrong answers.

Poignant.

Life moves pretty fast; if you don't look at a bit you don't see it.

Alright.

Stalemate! Anyway, bear with me over the coming months as I re-integrate myself into cyberspace, where the stars are message boards and the planets tmz.com's. I can't promise you true happiness, but I can almost promise you that you'll never, ever barf from eating a Skor bar.