Who would have thought that eating nothing all day, drinking about 10-12 sodas, and then eating a large pepperoni pizza right before bed would give me such horrible heartburn that I'd be hugging the toilet and dry heaving into it?

Shouldn't there be a warning on said pizza box that if you open it and steam comes pouring out, maybe you shouldn't take a piece and bite right into it, scalding the roof of your mouth and your tongue with pizza sauce that is the temperature of hell itself?

Why didn't anyone tell me that when my eye is bothering me I shouldn't mess with it while I walk through the kitchen, lest I trip and almost pierce my eyeball with my fingernail like a rotten grape?

It would also have been nice for someone to tell me not to mess with my eyes after using my fingers to pick jalapenos out of a salad because it's going to burn like hell.

And how could I be expected to know that when I accidentally dropped the entire roll of toilet paper in the toilet, trying to flush the whole thing down the drain was only going to result in a massive overflow?

Was there any reason to suspect that those Catholic school girls were going to have their cell phones ready and dial 911 to complain about the flasher so quickly?

If I had realized that those signs saying "Don't feed the alligators" weren't a joke, I might still have my left arm.

And I'll bet that you didn't know that when you take a cock ring off, you shouldn't take it off the shaft first and then let it snap onto your balls, because it will slowly constrict your testicles to death.

Why is it that I always have to learn these lessons?

Thirteen days until somebody moves to Florida.

Twelve days until I have to make sure that the company is all set for payroll again.

Eleven days until I rearrange my office to include a new desk and setup.

Ten days until new phones and lines are installed.

Nine days until I hope to launch a new redesign of part of my corporate website.

Eight days until I see The Ten, Bourne Ultimatum, or Hot Rod. Or maybe all three.

Seven days until one of my other employee's last day (maybe).

Six days until Thursday. I don't think anything happens on Thursday.

Five days until I get 300 and Hot Fuzz on DVD.

Four days until one of my oldest friends has a baby.

Three days until I get the parts for the new computer.

Two days until my wife gets home and I'll have clean clothes again.

One day until I see The Simpsons.

12 hours until one of my employees has her last day of work.

Here it is, midnight on Sunday and I'm left scratching my head. Where did the weekend go?

Saturday:

• Up at 7, went out for breakfast. Mmmm, blueberry pancakes.
• Watched Friday night's Monk and Dr. Who
• Went swimming. Ass got a bit burned.
• Watched half of Kitchen Confidential on DVD.
• Worked on my new vlog intro animation.
• Did my usual work.

Sunday:

• Up at 7. Started working.
• Worked until 10. Started reading Harry Potter.
• Finished Harry Potter at 1:30. Watched Friday night's Psych.
• Watched my wife paint our refrigerator.
• Went swimming.
• Watched the rest of Kitchen Confidential on DVD while I got Postcard Hell orders ready to ship.
• Wrote this tripe.

I had such a long list of things I wanted to do, too, like cleaning my office (it's an absolute pigsty right now), replying to about 180 emails, creating a new postcard design for Postcard Hell, work on relaunching IT2M, etc., etc. Sigh. I need one more day. Or maybe two. Or three.

Regarding Harry Potter - I'm not going to spoil it, but it was a decent read, and a good way to end the series. It's just as hackneyed and clumsily written and cliched as the other books, but it's still fun to read as long as you don't try to be too critical.

Oh, and I seriously contemplated finding a place that would wax a man's balls. If I had a handheld video camera, I would go down there and have them do it while I recorded my face during the procedure. But, alas, I don't. Oh well.

Anybody do anything interesting this weekend?