Happy Halloween with a creepy true story

As usual, when I was at my cabin by the lake I woke early, almost before the sun. The chill of the late fall night had begun to seep indoors while I slept. I made a pot of coffee to warm myself and threw an old flannel shirt on with my pajama pants and t-shirt so that I could take my dog outside. As I stepped out of the door I felt as if I'd stepped into another world.

Although the clock had told me that it should be daylight the world outside looked and felt as if it had been lost in some sort of lugubrious netherworld in which natural light was forbidden. A thick, dense fog had settled over the area. The sun surely rising in the east could not penetrate the oppressive blanket of moist air. Breathing felt as if I were trying to pull a milkshake into my lungs. Either the lake behind me was completely still, or the fog had effectively muffled all sound. Not even a morning bird chirped in song. My dog disappeared into the swirling mists and returned a few moments later. After she had her breakfast I threw on a pair of jeans and we headed out the door once again. The fog had not abated and the dreary gray-ness of the air seemed ominous. It wasn't like regular fog. It seemed as if the whole world was in it's grip, slowly suffocating.

My black lab and I hopped in the car. I needed my Sunday paper and it was only a short drive into town to the small gas station that opened at 7 on Sundays. My headlights offered no help, but fortunately I knew the lonely back country roads well and other travelers were usually few and far between at this hour. I drove slowly, my eyes alert, searching the fog ahead of me for movement. This time of day it wasn't other drivers I was worried about, but deer, who with a few hundred pounds of fur and hooves could wreak horrific damage to a car should they stray into its path.

As I passed the small golf course, where only a few months earlier The Golden Boys had enjoyed a night to remember, I noticed a car parked at the edge of the lot by the entrance. The headlights were on. This seemed odd. I couldn't imagine attempting to golf in these conditions and I couldn't imagine that the course was even open this early after Labor Day. A half mile later I arrived at the gas station, picked up my paper and headed back the way I came.

Approaching the golf course, this time it was on my side of the road, I noticed that the car with it's headlights on was still in the same spot. That's when I saw it. Although I was driving relatively slowly, it was still difficult to make out details through the fog while my car was moving. It looked like a body, a person, lying on the ground next to the car. By the time my brain had processed what it had seen I was past the golf course and 100 yards up the road. "What should I do?" I thought to myself. What if he's dead? What if he's not and he needs help? How did he get there? The thick fog still casting a foreboding pall over the world did nothing to ease my apprehension, my sense that something was wrong. I couldn't ignore a person who might need help. I pulled over and made a U-turn. If I was watching a horror movie this is the point where I'd be in your seat yelling for the person not to be so stupid. To just get away while they can.

I used the second entrance to the parking lot, the one furthest away from the car, and the body. I parked about 20 yards away. Whoever was lying there on the ground didn't even stir at the sound of my wheels on the gravel. I paused before I got out of my car, looking for any sign of movement or life. I saw none. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the gloom. The body didn't even stir at the sound of my car door closing. This wasn't good. Then I realized that the car that the body was lying next to was running. Hmmm...a parked but running car, with headlights on. A possibly dead body on the ground next to it.

My cell phone was in my glove compartment, but just like the dopey teens in horror movies, I didn't think to use it. I decided I wanted to investigate. A little part of my brain was thrilled at the opportunity for this kind of adventure. The fog, the aloneness of being out in the middle of nowhere, and finding a body. Stephen King would have been hard pressed to conjure up a scenario more fraught with peril. I slowly began to walk towards the body. It still did not stir at the sound of my footsteps. Then as I got closer, perhaps ten feet away I saw something on the ground next to the body. A cell phone.

Had he been trying to call for help before he was assaulted? It couldn't have been a robbery or they would have taken the phone too I thought. The car continued to idle, it's headlights stabbing out into the fog. The world remained silent. Not another car passed. There was no one there to help me. What do I do now? Though this poor man had obviously been smart enough to take out his cell phone, I still wasn't. Then, reprising my role in my own real life horror movie I decided to reach out and touch the body. I had to see if he was alive. I took a step closer, crouching down. Still, no movement. "Sir?" I said aloud. Nothing. I reached over, my hand inches from his shoulder...

They're Doing It...AGAIN!!!

Does everyone remember about 7 months ago when I bemoaned the fact that President George Bush and Hilary Clinton seem to visit my town with inordinate frequency? In the 7 months since I wrote that post Hilary Clinton has been back and Vice President Cheney also paid a visit to my fair city, (causing me to take an extremely circuitous route home that evening because the Secret Service didn’t want me and Vice President Shotgun on the same road at the same time. That was probably more for my protection than his). Now comes the straw that finally broke Phil’s back. (Yes, I did refer to myself in the third person)

I have scheduled a Halloween birthday party for my son at my house tomorrow. Last night one of my sons’ friends’ parents called to say that her daughter would be attending the party tomorrow but she wasn’t sure how she would get to our house because she assumed the road might be blocked because President Bush’s wife, Laura, was going to be at the Senior Center reading to old people at the exact same time as the party. In my head I was screaming, “What?!!? You have to be freaking kidding me!” I immediately reassured the parent that I did not invite Laura Bush to the party and would make every effort to ensure that her daughter wouldn’t be exposed to a member of the Bush family. It may be a Halloween party, but I don’t want it to be that scary.

I swear that aside from Washington D.C. there is no other city in the world that these dolts spend as much time visiting as they do mine. As you can see from my little profile thing in the upper left corner, I live in New York, but not in New York City. I live a full 5-6 hours from New York City. There is no logical reason for all the people in charge of running the United States to be visiting my town that often. We really don’t have all that much going on here. So I got to thinking, what could their reason be? Why are they here so often? What is the one common denominator running through all their visits? That’s when it hit me. It’s got to be me! I’m the common thread. I may not be directly involved in any of their visits to my town, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not on the agenda. The visits appear to be a perfect cover for the Secret Service and Homeland Security Agency to be in town so they can check up on me. Obviously my frequent blog references regarding our current administration have made me a “person of interest” and I may possibly be labeled as a “subversive element.” In fact by commenting upon this post you will likely be considered under suspicion as a member of my cell.

With Mrs. Bush’s visit here tomorrow, my references to President George Bush, First Lady Laura Bush, aptly named Vice President Dick Cheney, and Senator Hilary Clinton will have triggered whatever internet filters the Secret Service and Homeland Security Agency use to monitor for threats. As always, I just want to give a big shout out to all my fans at the Pentagon and in Washington D.C. You guys and gals are doing a great job. If dignitaries from our nation’s capitol are going to continue to visit my town I’d like to put in a few requests: As I’ve said before, Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice is a nice piece of political eye candy and George and Laura’s twin daughters appear to be total hotties who like to party. If you can get any of them to visit I might even vote Republican this year. Just leave former Congressman Mark Foley home this weekend, I’m having a kid’s party and he sure would make for one creepy clown.

*This won’t seem as funny to me tomorrow if the Secret Service shows up during the party with a “cease and desist” order regarding my blog.

This Is A Test...

This is only a test. If this had been a real blog post you would be told where in your area to tune to for emergency blogging information. This is my narcissistic side talking because I imagine that since I said I'd have a new post today you all came back looking for it. I promised a brand new blog post today and there will be one, just not until tonight. I wrote a post at work yesterday but forgot to e-mail it home. I refuse to blog from work since they can track my online usage. Believe me, the post I wrote is worth coming back later for. I made myself laugh with this one.

P.S. A television programming note: It's The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown is airing on ABC tonight. It's worth watching every time.

Classic Phil: Cell Phone People (The Original Start of the Series)

Hi everyone. I've been sick and pressed for time this past week. I hate not posting. I have ideas, but haven't had the time to sit down and organize them, so here is the original, the first, kind of the pilot episode of my long running cell phone rant. I wrote it on May 15th 2005. If you haven't read it before, enjoy. If you have read it before, just suck it up. You'll survive. I promise a new post on Friday.

CELL PHONE PEOPLE

Yes, we all have cell phones, but some people use them differently than others. There are those of us who have our cell phones and use then occasionally if we are going to be away from a land line for a while. That's fine with me. Then there are those who use their cell phones as if they're on some organ donor transplant recipient list and every call could save their lives. But of course these dolts are never on a transplant list. They also seem to think that because they're on the phone no one but the person they're talking with can hear them. And apparently the person on the other side of their phone call is always deaf because the cell phone people are always talking really loudly. Usually their conversations involve the trials and tribulations of their trivial little lives. "So then he tells me that he can't go to my cousins wedding with me because he already made plans with his friend. You know what the plans are? I found out from his friends' sisters' roommate that they're taking Carl to a strip club in Canada for his birthday." I especially hate the cell phone people who are on their cell phones at work. They're walking around a building in which they have an office with a desk with a real phone right there. What the hell is so important that you can't wait until you've walked to the other end of the hall to make that call? Or how about when you're in line at a store and the cashier is on the phone with her friend? I always make sure to ask some inane question just to interrupt. How about the people who walk around all day with the hands free headset on whether they're actually on a call or not. Look, unless you're a pilot, an air traffic controller or the kid at the McDonald's drive thru window there is no freakin' reason you need to be wearing a headset. Take it off. We're not impressed. There is nothing in your life that important and everyone else already knows it. To all you cell phone people I would just like to say that I hope the rumors of cell phone caused brain tumors are true. I'd love to see an MRI of one of these dopes heads. It would be hysterical to see a cell phone shaped tumor right there wouldn't it?

The Blockbuster Hello!

As I approach the entrance, unconsciously I begin to tread more slowly, more softly, hoping that my presence will go undetected. My head intentionally turned, using the age old children's technique of hoping that if I don't make eye contact I'll become invisible. I brace myself, take a deep breath, and push open the door in a rush, diving forward and simultaneously throwing what I'm carrying through the hole, hoping to create a moment of distraction that allows me to pass unnoticed. It never fails. The moment I stand up, all my evasive manuevers spent, in a painfully piercing high pitch I hear: "Hello! Welcome to Blockbuster!" I resign myself to the polite smile and wave.

These people are working on the weekend for minumum wage. There is no way that they can be this painfully cheerful. What kind of mind control drug does Blockbuster have them on? Just once I'd love to hear an honest greeting from them. "Yeah, yeah, I see you coming in. Look buddy, it's Friday night, I'm 29 years old and I live in my parents basement. I don't have a date and I've got no prospects in sight. I make minimum wage and this blue vest gives me a rash. If I have to fake one more cheerful hello I just might go postal on someone. Just pick your friggin' movie and try not to bother me too much." That would be kind of refreshing to hear. All that insincere cheerfulness is awkward for all of us.

Random Phil Thoughts

1. On Wednesday off the coast of Florida a stingray jumped into a boat and when the 81-year-old driver tried to remove it, the stingray stabbed him in the chest with his stinger. Between this incident and the Steve "Crocodile Hunter" Irwin incident I think the stingrays are trying to tell us something. They’re pissed and they’re not going to take it anymore. From now on, if I run into a stingray anywhere I’m just handing over my wallet and running away. Forget Jason, Freddy, or Scream, the scariest costume this Halloween has to be a stingray.

2. Another Phil Law: From this day forward there should be a separate lane at the supermarket for anyone using coupons. Also, if you find yourself in line behind a coupon user and there is a problem with one of their coupons, you are legally entitled to fire off a warning shot to help speed the process along. Needless to say, I’m going to be wearing a flak jacket to the supermarket when this law takes effect because there’s always a problem with coupons. The person invariably has a cart full of groceries and 800 coupons, and there’s always one coupon where the person has bought the wrong size or number of product, they haven’t bought the item for which they have handed the cashier a coupon, or they insist they have a coupon but can’t seem to find it after an exhaustive 20 minute search of their change purse.

A Blog Party Update

Thank you for all your additions to THE BLOG PARTY in your comments. I will be gradually adding them today. In the future, please E-MAIL me your additions to the story so I can add them with a seamless bit of transitional material if necessary. E-mailing me your additions to the story will allow me to add transitions from one person to the next and will make the next paragraph of the story a surprise to all but you. Once you've arrived at the party you can send me stories of you meeting other bloggers that those bloggers can then choose to play off of, or you can create events within the party. One person complained about the music in their comments. Keep in mind that this is a party with no timeline. The B-52's are the opening act of what will likely be many bands. I just thought "Love Shack" would be a perfect opening song. How can you not dance to that?

If you're just reading this, read the post below and you'll know more about THE BLOG PARTY. After today THE BLOG PARTY will be it's own freestanding entity with no further updates on this blog. If you've either written your introduction in the comments of the last post here, or e-mailed me your intro, head over to The Blog Party. You're probably already in the story. Just read down from the top, it keeps getting longer as I add things. If you haven't already, go join the party, it's already started! (Have I given you enough links to click on?)

The Blog Party

The idea began as a blog post by Phil last Christmas in which he wrote the story of a fictional party he threw for all his blog friends at a lavish hotel in New York City. This time it was for real. Following his stunning lottery win Phil had quit his job, published his book, and rented out the entire Ritz-Carlton Hotel in New York City. Online he gave the call to any blogger who read his blog. "Come one, come all to the first ever blog party!" His curiosity about what fellow bloggers were like in real life had been the impetus for this party, and he also wanted to thank them for their support and encouragement that had kept him writing.

The hotel was quiet as Phil paced about the ballroom. The band, The B-52's were busy setting up their equipment behind him. According to the e-mails he had received over a thousand bloggers from all over the world would be attending the party. There would however be one twist: No internet during the party. The bloggers would have to interact as people and not just electronic images. "Ahem..." The doorman clearing his throat shook Phil from his thoughts. "Mr. Factor, the first guests appear to be arriving. A limosine has pulled up in front of the hotel."

The Blog Party will be real but virtual. I envision a collaborative story created by all the bloggers who want to join. If you're the first commenter and want to come to the party, just e-mail me an installment of the story that follows this one. Make sure to include yourself as the first character in your installment so everyone reading will know who wrote it. After that you can all go to the blog party, read and e-mail installments that I will add as they go along. This could be fun that lasts on long time with each of us playing off of each other and our personalities, or this could bomb. Let's have fun and try to make it work.

Stick To What You Know

The longer I live the more I believe that once you become very proficient at a certain set of skills it is unwise to dabble in other areas in which it takes professionals years to become expert. I am a professional children's therapist. I consider myself quite good at it. I have no plans to try dentistry or nuclear science as a hobby on the side. The results of that would likely be disastrous.

I am dreading the day when I become so famous that my ego convinces me that I am capable of dabbling in other professions which are dangerous to even the most seasoned professionals. Two examples of this phenomena occurred fairly recently. New York Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle apparently flew his plane into the side of a New York City apartment building Wednesday afternoon. (My first thought was “I wonder if those people will get their security deposit back?”) About four weeks prior to that Steve Irwin, aka The Crocodile Hunter, was killed by a stingray. First and foremost, both deaths were tragic because these were men with a lot of life left ahead of them and who left behind wives and children. Secondly, they were both situations in which each was dabbling in an area out of their expertise.

Flying airplanes seems to be a very popular and very deadly hobby for the rich and famous. Cory Lidle, John F. Kennedy Jr., John Denver, Buddy Holley, Thurman Munson etc. The list could obviously go on. Those are just the ones off of the top of my head. My opinion is that if one mistake leads to your death, it probably shouldn’t be just a hobby. Aren’t hobbies supposed to be fun? There is very little chance I’ll die from a blogging accident, but if I were to take up flying I think my chances of death would increase by at least double. But then again, as I’ve already made clear, I’m not going to die.

Back to my premise: everyone should stick to what they do best. It’s what makes the world go round. If I need someone to throw a fastball high and tight, I call a baseball player. If I want someone to fly me across the country I call a pilot. If I find a stingray in my bathtub and I’m flipping through the yellow pages do I go looking in the crocodile section of my phone book? Absolutely not. I go straight to the stingray section.

The Name Game

Honestly, I've got nothing today. My head is empty. I don't have two thoughts to rub together. It was either this, or posting a re-run. What never fails to put a smile on my face though is The Name Game. I was deprived as a child and never learned The Name Game until I was a college student working in a day care center. When I'm elected President or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, I intend to make The Name Game our national anthem. When the flag is raised everyone will stand up and sing The Name Game with their own name. Pledge allegiance to me is what we will be saying. As President I will start each nationally televised State of The Union address by leading Congress and the congressional pages in singing The Name Game. That's the kind of country I want to live in. Singing The Name Game together will show the world that we are a country of individuals united. Take that North Korea! Let's see your citizens try to sing the name game in together! No one would dare bomb a country that can sing The Name Game in unison! I'm going to put my name in The Name Game here and I want everyone who reads this to do the same with their name in the comments.

Philly philly bo billy, banana fana fo filly, me my mo milly... Philly!

Ok, now it's your turn. And don't chicken out, because I've got Statcounter so I'll know if you visted my blog and didn't leave a comment.

You Want To Do What?!!?

I’m sure many of us at one time or another has wished we’d chosen a different career. You’re having a bad day or a bad week at your job, bills are piling up and you wish you made more money, or perhaps you’re working hard and getting no recognition for your efforts, so you start to daydream about what could have been if you had pursued the other career you had entertained thoughts of all those years ago. In this day and age when nothing is our fault and there’s always someone you can take to court to solve your problems, don’t we all have someone we wish we could sue for giving us bad advice?

Think about it. Who helps you pursue that first job or pick your first college major? A high school guidance counselor. High school guidance counselors have the easiest job in the world, yet not once have I ever heard of a high school guidance counselor telling a kid to pursue a career as a high school guidance counselor! They get summers off and they sit around all day browsing college catalogs and telling kids to pursue their dreams. Pursue your dreams?!!? What the hell kind of advice is that? Sometimes kids are stupid and their dreams suck. When you choose your first job or college major you’re a kid. Not even old enough to purchase a single beer and yet you’re considered old enough to choose your path in life for the next 50 years?

I think I may start a new career as a high school guidance counselor. Here will be my advice to my future students:

Be a high school guidance counselor. Whatever you do, don’t listen to the dolts still running around saying “go into computers.” The job of Bill Gates is already taken and there won't be another opening at that position, possibly ever. Computers are old news. Everyone can operate one now. I don’t think the I.T. guys who have to crawl under desks on their hands and knees to plug in someone’s ethernet cable are too happy with their career choice, and judging from their wardrobe I don’t think they’re making millions as a technology wizard. Just because you can score 10 extra lives and 8 power up packs on Halo 2 does not mean that a company will hire you to design video games. Oh, and this just in: the position of Tony Hawk has already been filled. Tony has made billions off of being a great skateboarder, but you’re not going to. No one else is going to either. You can play sports, but you’re probably not going to make a living as a professional athlete unless you’re some sort of glandular freak who won the genetic lottery. If you’re in the 8th grade and a major college hasn’t already started recruiting you to play sports for them, then you should probably pursue your plan B, which if you’re smart, is to be a high school guidance counselor.

The Phil Laws

In the immortal words of Billy Blazejowski, “I’m an idea man Chuck.” In my last post I used my now familiar phrase, “When I’m elected President or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first…” A comment by ChooChoo made me realize how often I have uttered those words on this page. In an effort to further my candidacy for both of those positions, I have compiled, to the best of my knowledge, all of the laws that have followed the phrase “When I’m elected President or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first…” I also will throw in a few others that popped up in other contexts on my blog, but which will be implemented when I’m elected. These laws will henceforth be known as The Phil Laws.

1. No more Leap Year extra day. Make all months exactly the same length.
2. No more Daylight Savings Time.
3. The elderly will only be allowed to drive motor vehicles or use supermarkets during certain hours of the day.
4. It should be perfectly legal to fire off a warning shot at any driver who slows his or her vehicle to gawk at an accident.
5. You may not use rhetorical questions in a public setting unless you have been tested and deemed competent to do so. If you use or respond to a rhetorical question improperly any willing observer has the right to punch you in the forehead.
6. The pope should wear a baseball hat backwards instead of that giant dunce cap he always has on.
7. A 1-year ban on Britney Spears “news.”
8. You cannot use a cell phone if you are in your own office building. Walk down the freakin’ hall and pick up your desk phone you moron.
9. It will be perfectly legal to punch a cell schizo in the mouth if they annoy you by walking around gesturing wildly and talking aloud to no one while wearing a cell headset.
10. Pregnant women should not tell their male co-workers how dilated they are.
11. Supreme Court Justices will wear jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts. No more robes. That’s just stupid. The dress code is the reason I’ve never become a Supreme Court Justice.
12. Congress will no longer be able to waste their time and our taxpayer dollars investigating cheating in sports or making laws about what men can and can’t do in an effort to meet women.
13. Hurricane names must be something scary, not just a normal name. Who’s going to flee something like Hurricane Ed? I believe that far less people would have perished if Hurricane Katrina had been mamed Hurricane Deathtron. You flee a storm named Deathtron. No one was scared by Katrina.
14. Anything you can play while sitting at a table or drinking alcohol is not a sport. Also, if the winner is subjectively chosen by a panel of judges, it is not a sport. All the aforementioned activities have no place on television.
15. The only place you can be nude in your local gym locker room is in the shower. The rest of the time, wear a towel.
16. Celebrities from other countries cannot criticize a government other than their own.
17. Funerals should include drinking and entertainment.
18. Schools need to request parental permission before exposing your child to a mime.
19. No putting bible verses on Halloween candy.
20. A ten-year ban on reality shows.
21. All evidence of the television show Everybody Loves Raymond will be obliterated from existence.
22. All public bathroom stalls will be as big as the handicapped stalls.
23. No more horseback riding.
24. No saying “See you next year” on Dec. 31st.
25. No more writing paper checks. Get yourself a debit card and stop holding up the lines at the supermarket.
26. The word ‘whatnot’ shall be struck from the English language.
27. From this day forward everyone will ignore David Blaine.
28. Future Presidential elections will be done American Idol style.

There it is. If you read it all then you definitely qualify as my new best friend and possible future Vice-President.

Why Shouldn't You Answer A Rhetorical Question?

Don't answer that. It was a rhetorical title. Is it just me, or does everyone get annoyed with rhetorical questions? If you already know the answer, and the person asking already knows the answer, then why does this moron even bother to ask the question? What is he or she hoping to accomplish? What would they do if you actually answered it? Has anyone noticed that, including this one, I've now asked five consecutive rhetorical questions? Are you wondering if I intend to write an entire post rhetorically? The answer is no. While rhetorical questions have a useful place in writing, it is my opinion that rhetorical questions have very little usefulness in real life. The places we are most often tortured with inane rhetorical questions seem to be college classes, work trainings or seminars, and in meetings at work. For me, there are two specific types of people who at times seem deserving of some sort of physical retribution for their handling of rhetorical questions. I believe that there should be some type of competency test and licensing procedure before one is allowed to walk freely spouting rhetorical questions. Don't you agree?

The first type of person who just drives me batty with their inappropriate use of rhetorical questions is the person who actually expects and waits for an answer to what should be a rhetorical question. For example:

Boss: "Well team, I hate to say it, but for our department to remain financially viable and avoid lay offs we are either going to have to work harder to increase our profit margin or we will soon find ourselves on the unemployment line. So what's it going to be? Work harder or unemployment?" (Question is followed by 30 seconds of silence) "I said people, what's it going to be? Work hard or unemployment?"

Group of employees: (tremendously unenthusiastic response coupled with arms folded and eyes rolling) "Work harder."

The second type of person who deserves a good, swift punch to the forehead is not the person asking rhetorical questions, but the person who insists on responding to them. These doormats have such low self-esteem that they revel in their ability to come up with the correct answer in front of what they imagine is an impressed audience of their peers. For example:

Teacher/Instructor: "In the 2000 presidential election, possibly due to some voting irregularities in the state of Florida, George Bush won the electoral college vote despite not having a larger number of popular votes than Al Gore, and we all know how that turned out don't we?"

Student: Yes. The war in Iraq is this generations' Viet Nam, gas prices are out of control, and inflation is on the rise!

When I am elected President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, I intend to pass a law legalizing the punch to the forehead as the appropriate response to anyone who asks an unnecessary rhetorical question or who unnecessarily answers a rhetorical question. Speaking on behalf of all men however,I would like to inform women that there is one rhetorical question that is always O.K. and will never result in a punch to the forehead, and we all know what that question is, don't we?

The Guy Code of Conduct: Public Bathroom Etiquette

As is well known, women have the “never go to a public restroom alone” rule. Women also have several other rules devoted to their bathroom habits, but to imply that I know them would say something bad about me. I’m not sure what, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be good. Despite what women believe, we are not complete barbarians. There are some rules we live by when it comes time to answer the call of nature. In fact, The Guy Code of Conduct has an entire chapter devoted entirely to how, when, and where men eliminate metabolic waste. Here are some of those rules:

1. If you are intoxicated and it is after dark, it is entirely acceptable to urinate anywhere outdoors, just look out for other men who also might be out there urinating in the dark.

2. In a public restroom never use the urinal immediately next to another man if it is possible to go elsewhere, like two urinals down the row, in a stall, or in the sink. Whenever possible you must attempt to keep a three foot buffer zone between you and other urinating men.

3. In a public restroom never use the urinal next to another man unless there is at least one of those little dividers. If there is no divider and the stalls or sinks are full, just wait your turn.

4. If you are using a urinal immediately next to another man just stare straight ahead and do not speak.

5. Speaking while urinating is allowed under only two circumstances: a)if two men are peeing outside and there is an appropriate buffer zone between them, or b) if two men are using urinals and there is a divider and one empty urinal between them.

6. Things you should never pee on: the fire, electric fences, other men, women, your food. (This rule was first written by two cavemen named Ed and Thog during the Jurassic period and originally only included the reference to the fire. Over the years through trial and error the list was expanded to include the other items.)

There is also an index in the back of The Guy Code of Conduct which includes world records involving urination, such as distance, from the greatest height, volume, off of famous landmarks etc.