(Super-wordy goal-post today, and very, very early. The reasons for both; nightmare-induced insomnia last night.)

• visit USA in 2009 – OK people, listen up. We’re gonna go over this once again for those in back who didn’t hear the first time. Hi, I’m your ambassador to the US. Basically, the long and short of it is, you REALLY don’t wanna come here right now. Go to Boliva, Mexico, the UK, Helsinki, whatever, anywhere else. Just don’t come here. We’re currently embroiled in a long, long war, we got bit by terrorists a few years ago and we’re still in the `overreaction’ stage and that means that unfortunately, if you’re NOT a native of the US, our little knee-jerk agency via the TSA is gonna detain your ass at the border and search.. well.. pretty much, `your ass.’ It’s not that you’re not welcome, we certainly love you Europeans and the rest of you, while we treat with suspicion and secretly think that you’re all in-league with the ScaryScaryArabs, we think your native country’s food is still pretty good on a Friday night. Should you ACTUALLY get through our borders and make it to the streets of NYC or whatever, our local police will STILL hassle you if they hear an accent. Again, this up-coming travel year, when considering vacation destinations think `Berlin’, `Quebec’, `Cairo’ and `Durban’. Think `Sydney’, `Seoul’, `Tokyo’ and `Moscow’. Don’t tempt fate with our quaint and racist small-town cops, just reschedule your vacation for.. Ohhhh.. Say 2011 or so. Thanks everybody.

• LOOK FOR A NUMBER – WHICH ONE? (There are numbers ALL OVER the freakin’ place!) If you’re looking for numbers 13, twenty seven or the infamous one hundred thirty three and two thirds, they’re all hiding underneath the couch with the rest of the cheerios and matchbox cars. One hundred thirty-three is drunk again though.

• i need a ged now at this time in life,, – Desperate.. Uneducated.. I can smell a double-wide trailer, a week’s worth of dirty dishes piled up on the counter top and a pit bull in the front yard in this dude’s voice. Ah, again.. For those in the back who missed the briefing above re: visiting the United States, would you all please be advised that THIS guy will be MOST LIKELY to harass you outside a 7-11? In addition, the local constables will probably take his side, this is guaranteed if you’re dark-skinned, so please RESCHEDULE your visit for a few years until we get this mess cleaned up, thanks.

• experience a high like no other – Ohhhhh, dude, dude, dude.. Check it out. Ok, get this. You take a hit off that bowl and after you breathe it in really, really deep, I’ll like.. monkey-punch you in the nuts.

• Grow beautiful, yummy tomatoes – ...Gather a bushel of them, then relentlessly pelt passers-by with them?

• stop licking sugar – Wait.. Hold on, you’re sorta implying that you’re like a horse or something and you’ve got these licks all over your domicile? Actually, I know someone who’s MIGHTIER than sugar and she might just be able to give you a hand, mate. Then again, let me preface that with, `you can’t lick her, ok?’

• quit doing ecstasy so much – Ohhhhh, dude, dude, dude.. Check it out, I got the PERFECT idea..

• I am making a drem team – Ahh, and see, I am making a Dremmel team. We run around and etch everyone’s initials into their personal gear, like pencils, helmets and anything else that sits still for 3 minutes.

• GET FUN WITH SOME ONE – Then go for a run? Lay out in the sun? Enjoy a post-coital cinnamon bun? It’s certainly one way to describe getting your rocks off, but don’t you think that she/he might see it a little differently? Maybe a little more romantic about then? (Then again, who am I kidding. I’ve got no idea what your lover uses in place of `sex’. For all I know, they might refer to it as `puttin’ his beef in my taco’ or `He parked his pink plymouth in my garage of love.’

• pay off £600 credit card balance – HA! My debt laughs in the face of your puny debt. My debt kicks sand in your debt’s eyes at the beach and steals it’s girlfriend. My debt grows stronger with every passing moment, gaining time until it one day will RISE UP and while consuming your debt as a mere snack-item on it’s way from the bed to the fridge, takes over other small countries’ debts and becomes a living, breathing cloverfieldesque monster.

• release every day without fail – This is about poopin’, isn’t it. Honestly. It’s about dumpin’. Droppin’ the kids off at the pool. Forcin’ the duck to quack, `Laying a torpedo’, taking a growler, right? Or maybe.. Just maybe, you were speaking in the metaphorical terms and the `release’ that each day brings. The new day, full of learning and beauty. But truthfully, I really think it’s about you droppin’ a deuce, dude.

• Learn to control my magical power better – See, I’ve got a magical power. It’s the power to be instantly misunderstood in the WORST POSSIBLE way by people and immediately following that is their movie-like reaction to it. I’ve been in an all-night diner, making fun of rap music, (and I EVEN LIKE rap music!) failing to notice a table of gang-bangers within earshot, them going, `what the FUCK did that cracker just say about 50-cent??!!’ I’ve spoken Russian to a nice lady and misspoke/mixed up the words for, `I don’t understand’ with, `I really don’t care what the fuck you’re saying’ and been cussed out. It just goes on and on and on. Maybe I need to market this or something. Get a wand, maybe?

• master my timebending powers – Let’s face it, instead of this being a special power, it’s really just you setting your watch, right? Moving the big hand around and the little hand around?

• get a bit smaller – I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish i was a baller? I wish I had a girl…and if I did I would call her? (Sorry, I normally don’t poke fun at folks doin’ cool things like getting healthier but DUDE, I immediately thought of those lyrics when I saw this, so, thanks, I suppose.)

• ask about mermaids – What the FUCK is up with the sudden 43t fascination with topless chicks-from-the-sea?

• I want to find a gold nugget – Then you need to get with the `timebending’ dude up there and visit California, round about 1850 or so.

• Write a play about the voice in my head – Some possible names, “My Tumor and I, Boy HOWDY Were Those Nuthouse Docs Wrong!”, “My Head Says I Should Kill You, But My Heart Says I Should Kiss You.”, and “Holy Shit, I’m Crazy!”. Personally, I like the last one the best.

• Home Improvement: Bathrooms – Hey! There’s a dude a few goals above, up there, that you need to meet.

• sign up for eyebrows – Like, they’re giving them away or something? Free with a purchase of a happy meal?

• Female servitude dungeon – High-schooler’s masturbatory fantasy?

• be “turbocharged” in the morning – Illustrating the differences in how I think, (which is often pretty fucked up) versus the rest of the world; See, knowing that turbocharging is the act of increasing the input of air into an engine via a turbine resulting in more power, I have this mental image of this guy, sitting at the breakfast table in the morning, dress shirt on, tie flying backward and a medium-sized device that’s feeding coffee into his mouth via a small model of a jet turbine rigged to his coffee cup. I think about this stuff.. all… the… time. I was once on a business trip, driving from Phoenix, AZ to Tucson, AZ with a co-worker and about 3/4 of the way through the drive, she suddenly turns to me and says, “Does your brain ever shut off? Go into `coast’ mode? Neutral? Ever? Like, do you EVER stop thinking?” and my surprised response was, “Uh, no, not really.” (What scares me is, what if one day these things turn into PTSD nightmares and my view of the world suddenly becomes Tim Burtonish crossed with Ridley Scott with some Stanley Kubrick tossed in for good measure? Well then, I would likely need to be heavily medicated if not completely incarcerated in a nuthouse.)