Last night there was a woman on Antiques Roadshow who had very long hair. She had, in fact, never cut her hair. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this woman was fascinated with hair and hair-related products. She had a collection of jewelry that had been made from hair. Other people’s hair. The hair of dead strangers. As I wrestled with my gag reflex, the appraiser told her the collection was valued at $4,000 to $6,000.

When I was in Junior High, I was looking to fill an elective and the guidance counselor cajoled me into taking an emotional-sensitivity class that she’d developed. Whenever one student said something nasty to another, the counselor would snap, I heard a put down. Two put-ups, please. Whereupon, the kid would laugh long and hard, then find a way to disguise two more insults as compliments. Nice pants, I’m way into rainbow stripes. I also like your eye shadow. It’s really purple. Then we closed our eyes and listened to Simon and Garfunkel.

Josh is nice. Josh is available. I like him. Josh is in sight of earning his Ph.D at Berkeley in Genetics. He could engineer the perfect child. Pictured here is his winning smile. Also pictured, his exceptional abdomen. (Josh made me take down the picture of his exceptional abdomen. Boo.) Josh is embarrassed. See Josh blush. He plays soccer. Right now he is reading George Orwell’s biography. Well, not right now. Right now we’re getting drunk with a large group of friends. Later, Josh will read George Orwell’s biography. With keen interest. With intent. Josh is a man who reads with intent. You should date him if you are a girl who likes to date boys. E-mail Josh at datejosh@yahoo.com. I’ll pay for the date. (As long as the date is very, very cheap.) Hooray!

Hey, Dave. Sup?
Absolutely
Pizza, light cheese? I’m down. (Turns to friend.) You down with pizza, light cheese? (Friend nods)
We’re down
Kay. Cool, dude
Peace

In San Francisco, when people don’t want outdated computer components (or bedroom sets), they put them out on the street in hopes that someone will take them away. I was walking by a school this weekend when I saw two boys coming up the street with an old printer. They were stalking around a recessed playground where a young couple was playing basketball.

The courtyard was about 15 feet below street level. The boy holding the printer was looking around nervously; the other one was yelling, Drop it! Drop it! I knew the printer would smash spectacularly, I also envisioned some of its smaller component parts flying up into the basketball players eyes. So I mustered my most adult voice and yelled:

HEY! Don’t drop that there, you might hit those people… Drop it, like, over there.