I went out to dinner with my dad today. We ate peppered steaks. They were good but the buffet sucked. Screw you, buffet!

I need to touch up the paint on the driver's side rear door of my maroon 1997 Ford Taurus. It's got a chip taken out of it. Screw you, driver's side rear door of my maroon 1997 Ford Taurus!

I cleaned the inside of my Taurus just this last weekend. It's hot as hell. The ladies are all going crazy-go-nuts over it. They toss their panties at me when I drive by. I just smile and wave. I don't stop to talk. I've got no time for crazy-ass, panty-tossin' women. Screw you, crazy-ass, panty-tossin' women!

I've been listening to Jimi Hendrix Band of Gypsies like it's my damn religion. I always try to sing along to "Who Knows" but I can't hit the high notes. Screw you, high notes!

I forgot to do my laundry today. Now I'm gonna have to wear the same filthy clothes to work tomorrow. Work is how they get dirty so there's no reason to clean them since they'll just get filthy again tomorrow. Screw you, lack of reason!

I'm hungry and I'm out of french-fries. If I had french-fries, I'd eat them but I don't. My life sucks. All I want is some damn french-fries and I'm fresh out. I could go buy some but I just drank this French beer, Belzebuth, that's 13% alcohol by volume so I probably shouldn't drive.

I'd like to drive, though. I really would. I could go get some fries and maybe a soda or something. It'd be a good time. A good time I can't have because of the French and their strong beers that taste surprisingly similar to Old Spice aftershave. It's all an insidious plot on the part of the French to keep all their fries to themselves. The French never went to preschool. They never learned to share.

I've often remarked on my plans to fly over France and drop NASCARs and White Castle burgers on their lame, beret-wearing ass. While, I was there I'd steal all their fries, which are their only lasting contribution to world culture. What would they have then? A whole lot of jack and even more shit.

Why is it that everyone bashes the French now? It used to be just me and that was cool but ever since they had an intelligent idea regarding how we should deal with the Iraq situation, everyone and their bestest-friend's brother have been tearing into the French like the French tear into frog legs and Jerry Lewis.

You know what? I'm gonna stop bashing the damn French. Those antisemitic bastards have had enough. I'll let them hang out in discos under the Eiffel Tower in peace.

Once, I drank wine and ate baguettes under the Eiffel Tower with my friend, Jake. We broke into a nearby Best Western motel to use the john. I liked infiltrating the Best Western better than the Eiffel Tower.

I always wondered why they didn't finish the Eiffel Tower. They just built the frame and left it. They said, "You know, this things still gonna be ugly if we put walls and stuff on it. Why not leave bad enough alone?" They said it in French, though. They say everything in French. They should know better. Seriously. The French created the philosophy on which the great nation of the United States was built and nearly conquered all of Europe yet they still haven't learned that they should be speaking English like sane people.

Since I like the French now, I'm offering my expertise to them in this regard. If you're French, drop me a line and I'll tell you what language to speak.

If I was a dog, I'd still be named Frank. I just want you to know that. I'd be named Frank no matter what species I was, be that toad, lizard, mammoth, camel, or badger. Frank is the only name that can work for any species. You couldn't name a three-toed sloth James, Jack, Johnnie, or Paul but you could name it Frank. You can't name a jellyfish Susan but you could name it Frank. I think you see what I'm saying. Frank is universal. Frank is the be-all end-all, the alpha and the omega, of trans-species nomenclature. You heard it here first.

Well, enough about me. Let's talk about you.