Stay away from any girl that is currently occupied, including your best friend's

Generally speaking, according to most man laws, bro codes, and all other pacts of manship, your friends' exes are off limits. Obviously from time to time there are exceptions, but this it's even more important to lay off if they are only sorta broken up or just broke up. Treat just-released-on-DVD My Best Friend's Girl like it is your best friends girl--off limits. The story is mediocre, the acting is what you'd expect, and the ending is outrageously unbelievable. Dane Cook's character is hired by his best friend (Jason Biggs's character)(they call themselves cousins--oh cute) to date his recent ex (already forgot who played this part - oh, Kate Hudson) and be a top-notch dick rag to her. He does a good job, turning on obscene music and bringing her to a strip club--ultimate dick rag moves for a first date. But Kate Hudson's character is cool with raunch and apparently loves boobs flying in her face. At the end of the date, she's looking for adventure after recently breaking up with the all-too-nice Jason Bigg's character. She invites Dane Cook up for a little first date sex. Although he refuses this time, they break all bro codes, man laws and other general niceties of friendship, as Jason Biggs continues to lament over losing Hudson. In the end, he forgives Dane Cook and Kate Hudson and Dane Cook live happily ever after. It's one of those movies that leave you thinking what the f*ck just happened? My Best Friend's Girl should be off limits.

So I've got a cold. A lousy stinkin' cold. Or at least the beginnin's of one. After laying awake in bed last night with my throbbing throat denying my attempt at sleep, I got up to check what I purchased with my FlexSaver account money at the last minute in 2007.

In the past I've smacked the beginnin's of a cold in the face with Zicam. I swear it works miracles. So I was happy to find Zicam spoons in the closet. The gooey "tastless" zi-crap goo on the spoon was meant to stir into a drink--"hot or cold!" it boasted. I coudn't deny the urge to lick the cover. So I licked. And gagged. I've only gagged thrice in my life. None of them appropriate for television. This was the fourth - well suited for a TV sitcom. I moved on to stirring into the drink--cold ginger ale. The goo would not dissipate so I chugged goo-chunky ginger ale--couldn't be worse than naked tounge on goo. Altogether it probably won't list among the best moments of 2009, but this morning there was no throbbing throat, no headache, and no (full blown) cold. But even after 8 hours of sleep, I'm exhausted. Let's see how tonight goes.

I ordered pizza online yesterday. Click click click, ordered. Got an e-mail about delivery time and I waited. Didn't even bother using a computer, I clicked in using my blackberry's wifi connection. 40 minutes and $23 later, I was chomping on some (overpriced) large tomato, sausage, and onion Papa Johns. Literally no human interaction needed at all--well, not on my part--my girlfriend brought the cash to the delivery guy. To be honest, though, I was more than happy to avoid unnecessary contact. I'm no recluse, but some of the most painful phone conversations I've had involve pizza orders. First of all, you're on hold instantly. ring ring "Thank you for calling Pizza Hut, can you hold?" "No, I'm starv-" click. Then, once they finally answer, the person on the other end doesn't know how to communicate. "Thank you for calling Pizza Hut, can you hold?" Oh right, that happens a again, but then you finally get the "Thank you for calling Pizza Hut. What can I do for you." Um, lets see, I called Pizza Hut. I need some one to come clean out my gutters. Oh wait, no, send me a pizza please. Just once, I want to tell them I've been waiting for 55 minutes for the heroin I ordered, but I'll never have the chance as I am now an internet pizza ordering convert.

Time for a change

Well now that it seems the Vikings won't be getting Favre. It looks like the internet crystal ball is revealing a trade with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. But I can live with that. If Favre was traded within the NFC North, the Vikings would beat the packers 5 times this year, while only playing them twice. Brett Favre sets records, and that would be a pretty impressive one. As a result, not only would the Packers fire everyone involved with the Favre fiasco, the entire team would cease to exist.

But enough wishful fantasy. We need to forget about what could have been. We need to move on. Farve for President. I have a roomie who would probably get violent with me if Favre donned the purple and gold. He despises the Packers and has a special hate in his heart for #4. If he were to come after me, it would be humorous, and I might be able to claim workers comp in the aftermath of his rampage. So I will now campaign for him to run for President. If the Packers won't let him belong to Minnesota, then let him belong to America. His running mate? None other than former Broncos quarterback, John Elway. Them man's also a Super Bowl-winning QB and even beat Favre in one of them. Favre will need someone to pull in the voters from AFC states that aren't very familiar with the NFC-fo-life quarterback. And what a better way to show Favre is willing to work through party lines than to choose a running mate with whom he's battled against in the biggest contest of their lives?

Vote Favre/Elway '08

Importance: High

I love having my iPod at work! The best tunes in the world from the present and past are piped directly into my ears while I attack some of the least engaging tasks I've ever completed. Another one pager? "Say it Ain't So-ooo-woah-oo-woah!" Intranet updates by COB?! "I think we better wait till tomorrow!" My presentation doesn't meet corporate standards!? "Who do you think I was?!" You need that report tomorrow? "I ain't sayin she's a gold digger!" ... that one makes no sense.

Life, Liberty and the Search of...

I've found it. Well, my roomies found it and introduced me. I'd driven by it a couple times, and you know how it goes: "Oh, that looks like it might be good." Well for god's sake, stop next time! If I would have, I'd be the guy who "found" Liberty Frozen Custard.

The place is a garage that's been retrofitted to be a throwback 1950s ice cream place - er, frozen custard place. The place has a slight identity crisis. Is it a garage-themed dessert place or just a straight up dessert place with a huge garage door? They've got sandwiches, hot dogs and vintage arcade games, too. Honestly, though, it doesn't matter. There's charm, and there's delicious desserts. Their gimmick, two new flavors each of frozen custard and Italian ice every day (check out their calendar). I can't get myself off of the custard, but the most refreshing is one scoop of their fruity Italian ice flavors with a scoop of vanilla custard. Only open till 10 each night, but one guy there will open up the window for the stragglers (shh, don't let it get out).

Favre martches down the field

Brett Favre continues to prove he is no mere mortal. He's been beaten up, broken, and even been declared dead before (ok, well, retired), yet he has always prevailed.

So is anyone really surprised to see him surge again for another bid for the Bowl? The guy's unstoppable. As a Vikings fan, I've hated the man. Laughed at him*, despised him, and even sent him hate mail. I hope he doesn't hold it against me. I've come to respect the grey-bearded Missourian for more than just a green-and-gold wearing warrior he was in the past. All before he was a candidate to join the Vikings, mind you. (Strib's Judd Zulgad)

He continues to prevail.

If a Viking fan can come to like the man, how do the Packers think they are going to win this PR battle? Favre has asked to be released, traded, and finally, to compete for his old job as a playoff-winning quarterback. They've turned him down on all fronts, and basically told him to stay at home. They've even lied about him using a company cell phone and checking phone records. Favre doesn't possess a company phone.

Sure, we could blame Favre for telling the world he was hanging his hat, and then turning again to try to claim his spot as Destroyer of the Secondary--weeks before training camp. But we don't. Or at least I don't and neither do many fans. If you've ever seen any other 38-year-old have as much fun playing a pro sport as Favre does, then we'd all love him or her, too.

I think that's why Favre can win the PR battle that continues to fester. He literally seems to hold nothing back when he talks to the media, which certainly isn't the way to win the hearts and minds throughout most media spectacles. But people like him. I know several Packers fans are not impressed with his recent antics, and it's no surprise that some Vikings fans want to tar and feather the guy no matter what the circumstances (but seriously, grow up--I think you could live with him as QB if the Vikes took a run at the Bowl).

But generally speaking, the public will support Favre even as he comes across as slightly bumbling:

“Them moving on does not bother me,” Favre said. “It doesn’t. I totally understand that. By me retiring March 3rd, I knew that could possibly happen. All I was saying is, you know, I’m thinking about playing again.”

And he appears to be flip-flopping more than IHOP on Sunday after church. He held on to his reinstatement papers, rather than shipping them off right away. He actually told the press that his wife and agent were not happy about that.

But he slowly marches down the field. He hasn't won yet, but he's making small gains, much like he's used to, utilizing short passes and the running game.

But as far as I can tell, we, the public, will support Favre through this nasty he-said-she-said. At least I will, wearing a shiny purple #4 jersey.

Do you want Favre in Minnesota?

(*I remember one instance where Favre broke his hand on a play and coddled his hand on the way over the to the bench, grimacing. I jeered the TV with my purple-clad friends making fun of how much of a wuss he was. Well during last week's men's lacrosse game I took myself out after a hit to ice my hand. It was not broken. Oh Karma...)