GOD BLESS THE INTERNET AND OTHER ASSORTED NON-LIVING CREATIONS

I just ordered a V-Tech V-Smile L-earning C-enter (those people are adamant about their dashes) for Andrew from walmart.com.

Say what you want about Walmart, but dammit all to hell ... those people are making a young boy's silent wishes come true!

Because they only had the system and not the actual game cartridges, I had to just saunter over to Amazon and order a few games for the kid there.

I don't shop enough on the internet to the point where it makes me jaded every time I buy something.

It's still a thrill for me to order something on the internet, sit back in my chair, grin and marvel at modern technology.

I'm so freakin' proud of myself.

Now if only I had money in the bank to cover these purchases, I'd be doing fanfuckintastic.

We're having Susie's family over here on Christmas day for dinner.

And honestly ... I don't mind at all.

I'm almost ... looking forward to it.

Damn this Holiday Spirit!

How can I be a curmudgeon if I'm ... nice?

Usually these are simple problems like ... well ... the latest one was we had lost the remote control for the TV.

We had looked everywhere for it, lifting up couch cushions, looking under beds, etc.

Couldn't find the damned thing.

Last night I dreamt that I found it behind the computer keyboard on the little computer keyboard shelf drawer thingie.

Pulled the shelf drawer thingie out this morning.

Lifted up the keyboard.

There it was.

The missing remote control.

I know ... it's freaky deaky.

So now I'm debating on calling CBS and seeing if they want to explore this mildly amusing phenomenon for a one hour drama for the upcoming fall season.

Since they've got all these other dramas about people with really crazy abilities to solve crimes, they may be interested in exploiting my powers in the form of a Friday night TV show.

They could call it "Dream Guy".

And it'd star me as the Dream Guy ... a tortured soul who is torn between using his dreaming powers for good or evil.

And the FBI can come to me every week and say something like "We need your help, Dream Guy. There's a girl missing near Niagara Falls."

And they'd fly me up there to Niagara Falls.

And I'd walk around the area silently, making sure to press my index finger against my lips as I walked.

Then I'd say "Get me to the hotel room ... NOW!!"

And I'd lay down.

Maybe rent some in-room porn and jack off.

Then I'd go to sleep.

And in my dreams, I'd be finding remote controls for the girl's TV.

And I'd wake up and call the FBI and say something like "Her remote control is behind the refrigerator in her grandmother's apartment. GET THERE NOW!!"

And the FBI would fly to the grandmother's apartment and bust down the door and run inside and pull the refrigerator away from the wall and there would be the girl's remote control.

And even though the chick would still be missing ... hey! We've got her remote control!!

Then they could all just crash on Granny's couch and watch "Survivor" or "The Amazing Race" or some other show on CBS because then they could actually promote other shows within a show.

It's dramatic gold, people.

Now if I could just find a phone number on this wretched CBS.com, I'd be in business.