And Although they were Natural Enemies, the Wolverine did not eat the Squirrel.

First of all, I looked up "Australian Glider Squirrel" on Google, just to make sure they were real, and they are (I bet Cheney was all "wtf?"). They're sort of tiny koala-ish, and have little Ewok hands, and probably shouldn't be fed after midnight. That's what they look like.

To backtrack: I'm in one of my comic stores a couple days ago (a person should have more than one comic store; you never know where you're going to be when you need comics), and the Wolverine Guy there had this weird buzzing under his sweatshirt.

Wolverine Guy: The guy at my nearest comic store, who has Wolverine claw sheath holster things tattooed on the tops of his hands. He also has enormous muttonchop sideburns and wingy hair. He rocks and has probably never ever smoked weed (nudge).

He rings me up, and the entire time his sweatshirt is buzzing, and he pretends it's not happening. It was loud, sort of like speaker feedback. Wolverine Guy doesn't strike me as the easily-embarrassed type, so I asked what the buzzing was, even though I knew it could possibly be his defibrillator or pacemaker or maybe some kind of Trekkie bullshit.

And as casually as if I'd just asked him where he got his sweatshirt, he said "It's my Australian Glider."

I didn't know what that was. I said, "I don't know what that is."

So he told me. An Australian Glider, according to him, is the down-under version of our flying squirrels, only in Australia, a flying squirrel is a marsupial, like an opossum, and since it was just a pup, it needed to be in a pouch near a warm body.

Wolverine Guy unzips his sweatshirt, and he's got this hemp bag, all beaded and feathered and leather-stringed around his neck, and there's a tiny lump in the center. He asks me to feel it, which is weird, but I do, and I think I'm being conned, and he can tell. So W.G. holds the bag out perpendicular to his body by the corners and says "hold out your hand".

I did. You would have done the same. There was definitely something alive in that pouch. It was warm, and tiny, and it moved around some, and for a second it held my finger through the hemp. I kind of laughed and said "huh, cool," even though inside, I was quite clearly saying "AAAAAAGGHHHHH! FLYING SQUIRREL!"

You know he's gonna fall asleep and roll over on that squirrel, right? Just trying to prepare you. I'm going for comics tomorrow, and I might come back with bad news. I'm just saying.

There's a Drinking Game in Here Somewhere

Sometimes, you just need a little crazy. And so, I present to you Sharon Stone's iTunes playlist:

Tracy Chapman, Change: "I guess I love this song because God made me change."

Blossom Dearie, I Won't Dance: "This song has a real old school verve."

Bob Dylan, Just Like a Woman: "From the time I was a young girl this song made me feel in touch with my woman-ness."

Aretha Franklin, Spirit in the Dark: "Aretha came from the church, so she learned to sing from her soul for real."

Sohne Mannheims, Unn Wenn Ein Lied: “These guys’ voices are alluring and sexy and eerie in a way that’s almost scary to me.”

Tom Waits, Hold On: “Tom Waits is the Humphrey Bogart of music.”

Nancy Wilson, Guess Who I Saw Today: “This is the quintessential song of all time sung by the quintessential singer.”

Notorious B.I.G. featuring R. Kelly, F—king You Tonight: “For me, Biggie Smalls was the most talented rap musician/composer ever. That’s it.”

Etta James, I Rather Go Blind: “This is the way I feel the blues.”

Dusty Springfield, Goin’ Back: “What a voice.”

Aretha Franklin, Bridge Over Troubled Water: “To me, Aretha singing this Simon and Garfunkel song was the voice of what was lost when we lost the Kennedys and King.”

Kelly Clarkson, Because of You: “I love that this girl had the guts to take her talent and fame and give the world a song that says it’s okay to say openly, ‘I will not be the subject of domestic violence’.”

Marvin Gay, What’s Going On: “The most healing song I know.”

First of all, they have to be read aloud, in the most sincere voice you can muster (and I know some of you, and I know sincerity ain’t your strong suit. Try.). Maybe type them up and cut them apart. Put them in a hat for later. When someone asks your opinion on anything, just reach in and pull out one of Stone’s awesome quotes. I’ve already used “I will not be the subject of domestic violence” on the dog, and I can’t wait to try “This is the way I feel the blues” and “God made me change” at work tomorrow.

Strategy Guides...and Cheetos, right? Doritos?

I smelled her before she was ever in view. When she finally approached me, I was blown away by the stench. That lady reeked. Of marijuana.

Rock.

She was probably 63 or so, and completely stoned. She said, "Do you have a strategy guide for this game?" She was all slurry and distracted, and you know she was driving.

"What game?"

"Oh." She put her purse up on the counter and dug through it for a second. During this time, I fantasized about what the game might be, hoping hoping hoping that it would be awesome, and that it would be for her. She pulled out an old, seriously often-played copy of the original Zelda. The label was almost completely faded.

I told her it was too late to buy a strategy guide for games for the original Nintendo system.

"Well damn." She staggered away.

In my fantasy version of her backstory, she's smoking up for medicinal reasons, and a grandson or neighbor kid told her it'd be more fun if she played some video games.

Sometimes, I don't mind retail one bit.

They Mean it When They Say 'Permanent'

It's your day off. You're sick. You just got a new Sharpie. If you're still bored, it's your own fault.

666, Magic Beans, the Usual.

You know how in the desert it's sweltering and deadly during the day, but then at night, it's all cold and dark and you have to sleep with your arms inside your t-shirt and try and huddle as close to the fire of cactus tines as possible? When you wake up in the morning, your throat might feel like mine does today. I don't have any other symptoms, but the voice is gone, and ow. Also, ow. I answered the phone, and let's all pretend I sounded like Clint Eastwood, okay? Even though the person on the other end was obviously fighting an urge to say, "Millhouse? Is that you?"

It's my day off, and I don't like my job enough to work sick, so I was off to Walgreens for supplies.

First of all, they were playing the new Strokes album. Seriously Walgreens? It just came out yesterday. You guys are on top of things.

In the cold and flu aisle, I saw a product called 666 Cold Preparation. I did not purchase this product, but I wrote the name down so I'd remember to tell you.

I picked up some Cold-eze, some Lemon Zinger (which should not be used in conjunction with the Cold-eze, but let's see what happens) and a double-ended Sharpie, because, come on, two pens in one.

And then I saw it. In the candy aisle. Sport Beans. They're made by Jelly Belly, they're bright Amp green, and they contain all the herbs, sugar and caffeine of your various delicious energy beverages with which I have become so friendly of late.

Caffeinated. Jelly Beans. You, reader, might have read the label and chuckled to yourself. Maybe rolled your eyes. Maybe even bought one on a lark. I bought four packs. I'm already kicking myself for not just getting the whole case.

At the check-out, my cashier was equally intrigued. She said she might start eating those now that she's back in school. And then she said "Did you know I'm back in school? You probably already heard that." I tried to play it off like good for her, even though I'd never seen her in my life. I suppose it's the least she could expect, since she didn't mention the "666 Cold Prep" written on my hand.

So it wasn't just Running, it was Hurdling

The weather's nice enough here that I could go for a run, which makes me happy. January 2nd isn't ordinarily a time of year I can go out in shorts (okay, and a sock-cap). Last night, though, was a different story. Severe thunderstorms; the dog barked himself hoarse, and at one point I made sure I had shoes handy (in case of? Yeah, I don't know either.)

(Wait, no, now I remember: in case I need to outrun a twister. Duh.)

Anyway, now it's morning, and it's Monday, and the resolutions are in effect, so...running. The dog's still asleep. All over the walk outside my place are empty Red Bull cans, loser scratch-off tickets, and used condoms.

I swear to you, reader, those are not my scratch-off tickets.

2006

I resolve:

I'm gonna play drums at least once this year.

And I'm gonna film myself jumping over something on my eighth-grade Freddy Krueger skateboard, and then send it to everybody I know.

I'm going to learn to do a handstand or one of those backbends where you can stand back up again and everybody's all "nuh-uh!"

See that thing over there? I'm gonna lift that straight over my head.

I'm gonna get huge Popeye muscles and cover them with Hula Girl tattoos.

I will ignore headlines containing the names Paris Hilton, Jessica Simpson and Donald Trump.

I will clean and organize my computer desk and bedroom at least to the point that they no longer appear inhabited by a crazy person.

I will no longer sleep during the day like the girl in Prozac Nation.

I will no longer make references to books I haven't read.

I will eat all the candy I fucking want to eat. Cause I don't smoke, that's why. And because candy is awesome.

And I'll read more comic books. Yes, even more.

Flossing? Screw you, flossing.

Bedmaking? Nope.

Trying to see both sides of arguments? Nah.

Listening intently when spoken to, instead of just waiting for my turn to speak? That's probably a really good one. Let's all try that one. Well, you guys can. In the meantime, something crazy happened to me five minutes ago, and you gotta hear it.

I'll suppress my reflexive eye-rolling upon hearing faux self-annointed hipsters dismiss pop music, sitcoms or junk food. I don't care if Mandy Moore was a teen star; she rocks the house in Saved! and Entourage and we should all allow ourselves to find this sort of thing out.

When someone is a jackass in the name of politics, and they're all punditing and blow-harding and name-calling, I'll try to remember that it's not really their politics: they probably actually are jackasses.

I resolve to break it down.

To rock the mic right

And I'll write more than just blogs.

Oh, and I'll write more blogs.

Happy New Year.