I always admire anomalies such as when old people hold hands, particularly old couples consisting of one male and one female. It's one of the simple things I can't quite understand.

Perhaps couples grow apart when they grow fat, old, and start to smell. Perhaps they're so shallow to let their aged, weathered, leathery mugs become an unpenetrable barrier of the attraction and desire which once was. Perhaps they grow sick of each other, but are so used to being with one another that they can't manage to be apart. Somewhat of a symbiotic relationship of two parasites feeding off each other's brain fluids.

It's one of the things I quite simply cannot comprehend. Why is it such a rare commodity for them to hold hands?

If I do choose to live to be old or if I am allowed to live to that age, I would still wish to hold hands with my beloved. I wouldn't let wrinkles, age, or any other senile deficiencies get in the way. How wonderful could that be, to be fat and old, but still genuinely in love.

People who smoke get smoke breaks. People who don't smoke do not get smoke breaks.

Somehow I actually don't mind having to work much longer, due to the fact that I have a physical advantage over anyone who smokes in addition to a fatter wallet.

For example, if a smoker tries to mug me with a knife, I could outrun him, go to the nearest knife store, buy an even larger knife, run back, and counter-mug him. See? I am so brilliantly logical, that with my basic kindergarten math skills I have solved the century old question whether smoking is bad or not.

If you happen to come across a man clad in black Under Armor sweats
running around Central Park around midnight in the pitch black...
That's me.

Please don't run me over.

I've always believed that a painful death is best, because it is the last thing that you feel for the rest of your life.