NOODLES OF HEAPS

THURSDAY NIGHT POT POURRI

This week's smells are hibiscus, ginger, blankets from the trunk and as always, a little bit of book

Every time I grab a cup of pudding and sit down to write about all things terrific, all I can think about is heat, summer and bikinis, have you noticed? Yesterday I tried to put together a poetry jam but this is as far as I got:

My chest hair is perfect, it's better than yours

That was no joke, I really do think I have some A1 chest hair, but I spend most of my hair thoughts on the head and face, which means my beautiful mind didn't have enough material for a real fist shaker of a poem.

The pride of Brazil, Street Fighter II's Blanka, has some of the best chest hair in pop culture.

NOTES ON GETTING OLD

In a way this ties into chest hair because chest hair is the tree rings of humanity -- you can tell how old a man is, or how old and old woman is by just checking out their patch. I think that's one reason my chest hair is so damn top knot, as it makes me look like a perfect young man rather than a quasi-questionable dude on the cusp of responsibility. Anyway, it's a strange feeling reading old stuff I wrote now because "back in the old days" doesn't necessary refer to a time when I was a kid. This means that when I read something embarrassing or just totally specrapular (gonna regret that one) I can't use the excuse -- "who cares, my brain was young and unripe". Sure, most of us get better as we get older (except athletes and Jennifer Aniston) but I still hate the feeling that at some point I was a guy that I wouldn't like.

Luckily, I've been growing up just fine lately. In fact, I just started a new business - an Internet dating site for girls who like real men.

In real news, I've just signed on to be the IDENTITY MANAGER for comedy/art duo "Life of a Craphead". In the coming months I'll be promoting the shit out them so get ready to be bombarded by the coolest news on the coolest nudes in town. www.lifeofacraphead.com.

That's all I have to say on anything for now except for this quick tip: You can't spell "Mold" without "Old". I attach a stopwatch to every piece of food I buy and if it goes past 34 hours, I throw it out or turn it into art. You can buy stopwatches at the Nike store.