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Appetizer: If you had the choice of sitting on the bench while your team wins the Stanley Cup, or playing a regular shift on a team that stinks, which would you choose? – Chris C.

mike-the-situation-abs Is there such thing as a Stanley Cup Ring that I can wear to bars in the interest of going home with whomever I choose as a result? Because that would seriously influence my answer. “Your breath smells like a dead skunk.” I couldn’t agree with you more, Snookie. Have you seen my Lord Stanley Ring? “Do you promise to sleep in the wet spot?” No. “OK, let’s go.” You know, that sort of situation. See what I did there?

Soup: What is the biggest challenge in being an international man of mystery (the Boston/Portland thing)? – Kate L.

boss-cat-in-sink I actually have a real, practical answer for this. It’s my cats. Everyone remembers Boss but I also inherited my parent’s cat, Spud, a year ago and I now have two of them. If anything ever happened to Spud, or I gave him away, Bonnie would find a way to kick my ass from the hereafter – so I’ll be a cat owner until they both expire and that’s going to be at least 5 years by my math. When I was a “cat person”, I used to say that one of the huge advantages to having them as pets was their independence. You can leave them alone for long periods of time. But I was wrong – see a dog you can take with you, just about anywhere. So they tag along when I head to the States. But the cats have to be looked after by someone. Currently my friend and neighbor, Sam, has moved them in with him. That, however, is a lot to ask and won’t last forever. So yeah – the biggest challenge to my border-hopping lifestyle are my two furry friends. Love ‘em, but it’s a concern. Especially since we’re considering renting the lake house for half of the summer. And not to Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock.

Salad: What is the best way to inadvertently annoy Alexa B. using Facebook? – Janet P.

There are a few tangible and effective options here:

  1. Refer to everyone as “Mase” – except her.
  2. Complain on her wall that her annual Christmas swap isn’t exclusive enough. Then, show up shitfaced wearing smeared clown makeup.
  3. Pee the bed. With her in it. You can’t really do this via Facebook, but I can guarantee you that it works.
  4. In the comments under a picture of Fox, write “When are they going to add the option to DISLIKE something?”
  5. Create a group called “Cato is Hung Like a Budgie” and get a minimum of 1,000 members.

Main Course: Do gay men hit on you incessantly when you walk your dog(s) with their stylish couture? – Greg W.

Greg, I assume your question stems from my recent upload of this:

My Daddy’s big with the gays.

I don’t think there’s much chance of me being admired in Charlestown. I’m not sure any gay guys even know where Charlestown is. Were I walking the dogs through the South End, however, there’s a good chance I’d wake up slung over a see-saw in Peter’s Park.

Dessert: Do you find yourself having more intelligent conversations with your dogs than you do people these days? – Sarah G.

Absolutely not. If anyone were to ever place a hidden camera or digital recorder in my house they’d be able to capture some of the most non-sensical gibberish ever uttered by a human man. But what’s a statement like that without an example? I may regret this. Here is a song I reworked out loud until I got it just right over the course of my unnecessary snow day on Wednesday:

pixie-closeup My dog is Pixie,
Pixie is my dog.
It’s uncanny she resembles,
A retarded bullfrog.
I love my little Pix,
She likes to pick up sticks.
And soon she’ll help me pick up some hot chicks.

If any of that classifies as “intelligent” in your book, then the answer to your question is a resounding “yes”. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve really got to get started dying alone.


Last week’s user-submitted quizzlet was a lot of fun, no? Shall we do it again? I’m about to send out Facebook and Twitter requests for questions and I will add to this post as they come in. Please leave your questions in the blog comments. Update: Sweet Jesus. Stop before I end up on a government list.

Appetizer: If you could berate a pro sports athlete at a match, etc. who would it be? – Gary P.

I’ve never been a fan of his, but after last Saturday’s Bruins vs. Islanders match – “The Pest”, Sean Avery. Click the link if you’ve yet to see him thwap the back of Bruins’ goalie Tim Thomas’ head with his stick starting a donnybrook which hardly helped New York’s situation. There is hockey goonery, which I fully encourage, and then there’s hockey douchebaggery. I’d like to take a Gatorade bucket and dump it over his head. In the middle of a rink after a game that would be awfully chilly! Not to mention it would be filled with carbolic acid.

Soup: How are you and Spud getting along now that you’ve inherited him? – Anneliese R.

Surprisingly well, thank you. You were here the day he bit my face and scarred the frig out of it two summers ago. Whether I deserved it or not, there are two types of cats: ones that bite to wound and ones that bite to warn. Spud is of a third type which bites to maim. Anyhew, not only are we getting along but he sleeps in my bed, follows me around the house, sits with me, purrs constantly – it’s amazing. I guess he knows where his mouse is buttered now.

Salad: How many dogs can one man own? – Kent H.

Three. I didn’t even have to think about it. There are several factors to consider in regards to how many canines one household can sustain, but only one of them is worth discussing – it’s what I like to call the “creature to lawn landmine threshold ratio”. It looks something like this:

Number of dogs x 2 poops each a day / lawn acreage = C.L.L.R.

Currently I’m maxxed out. I have my stainless steel dustpan on a pole, my little doo-doo rake and I’m constantly hovering over the grass looking for dead soldiers as it is. If another dog were to be added to the mix I’d be buried in a mountain of recycled Eukanuba by Labor Day.


Main Course: Thanks to a relatively new area of science called String Theory, physicists and cosmologists are on the cusp of unifying Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity (the theory of the very big) with quantum theory (the theory of the very small). If their calculations prove true, it will mean that our universe sits within a sea of parallel universes that existed long before The Big Bang. Could you give me your take on the implications of parallel universes and pre-Big Bang physics? What does this stuff mean for mankind? – Mark B.

My head just started throbbing. The answer to your questions, however, are obvious. The implications of a parallel universe were well documented in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and I’m not going to jump through hoops for you and rehash it all here. What does it mean for mankind? Well – we’re fucked, basically. Especially after Nero warps in on May 8th.

Dessert: If you had to cut off one of your fingers from each hand, which ones would you pick? – Staci D.

You can’t live without your thumb. Watch the Pope of Greenwich Village for more detail on that point. Your index finger enables you to pick your nose, point and poke. The middle finger – enough said. And the pinkie is just way too adorable. Reminds me of my mother telling me nursery rhymes about pigs. The third finger, however, doesn’t even have a nickname. So lop those suckers off on both hands. If for no other reason than I can look like I’m throwing the goat, 24/7.