I just finished watching “Shower.” It’s a Chinese film about a father who runs a traditional bath house. The older, more successful son returns home, thinking that his father has passed away. But it turns out it was just a misunderstanding based on a picture his mentally-challenged brother sent to him.

Which brings me to the subject of this week’s blog entry: What’s with the Special Haircut? The slow bro in this film sports the standard issue mentally-challenged hairdo–shaved on the sides, long on the top. There is no subtle blending between the two lengths. It’s just short, then long. This particular cut included an even more disturbing feature: a lone patch of hair on the back of his head, sitting just above his neck, like some kind of undiscovered island.

I guess this is supposed to be the visual cue that he’s the retarded guy. But do they have to be so blatant about it? I mean, sure, he might be special, but does that mean his barber is, too? Surely, they’re not suggesting that this man actually attempted to cut his own locks? I mean, would they even let him near a pair of scissors unsupervised?

There are less obvious ways to let us know that a character has a faulty hard drive. How ’bout picking one that doesn’t insult our intelligence?

Well, after battling with my stomach for so long, I decided it was time to actually start exercising again. You see, being the svelte man that I am, I don’t have much motivation to hop on a tread mill or lift anything heavy. I mean, look at me. Okay, you can’t look at me right now. But if you could, you’d know what I was talking about. Suffice it to say, I’m a fucking bean pole.

So I knew I needed to exercise, but how was I going to do it? I could get myself one of those home gyms with all those rubber band loops for resistance, but I don’t have the space for such a monstrosity. Free weights? Sure, I’ve got a set of those. Who doesn’t? I even have a low-end stair-stepping thingamajig. It’s a lot of fun — for about two minutes. No, when it comes to exercise, I get bored easily. There was really only one option left: cycling.

Yeah, I used to be a hardcore cyclists. Not one of those dorks with the mirrors on their helmets. But I did shave my legs for a while. For those of you who don’t know, a hairless leg is the sign of a true cyclist (or possibly a transvestite). Check out all the riders next time you watch the Tour de France, not a hair protruding from those massive thighs. Apparently, the whole philosophy is that when you bite it (and you will bite it), it’s easier to clean up the wound and apply a bandage without all that wool in the way. Really, though, I think it’s just too look cool.

Cyclists have a term for riders with hairy legs. They call them “Freds.” I’m not sure why. But I’m pretty much a Fred. Because there is no fucking way I am ever going to shave my legs again. I have no idea how you women do it. However, I am so glad you do.

But I digress. Boy, do I digress. Is this a fucking novel or what? That was a rhetorical question.

So I went out and bought myself a new bike on Saturday. It’s pretty sweet. It’s what they call a hybrid bike: part mountain bike, part road bike. Usually, these bikes can look pretty gay. But I managed to find one that confirms my masculinity.

Anyhow, now all I have to do is actually start riding the damn thing. Will I do it? Or will that cool bike I purchased just sit in my living room, leaning against the wall, gathering dust? Only time will tell. Tune in next week for another exciting episode.

I’ve just discovered the most amazing food product ever created: The Trader Joe’s Egg-White Broccoli Cheddar Quiche. As you might assume, using egg whites instead of whole eggs in this flaky-crusted entree helps lower its fat content and cholesterol levels significantly. But it doesn’t lower the taste.

Unfortunately, it’s not a very good taste. Actually, it’s extremely foul. So foul, in fact, that I spat out the small portion I placed into my mouth seconds after it made its entrance. It didn’t taste so much like quiche as it did a sweaty sock. Fortunately, since I did not actually digest any of this so-called food, it didn’t cost me any Weight Watchers points or interfere with my Pritikin, Atkins and Zone diets.

For years, manufacturers of diet foods have been trying to make their food taste better, which only makes people want to eat more of it. But Trader Joe came up with a much better solution: Make the food taste like shit. Here’s to you, Trader Joe, a culinary pioneer.

Many people go through life feeling like they’re different. While some of these people were born with both male and female genitalia, others are simply loners. So how can you tell which type of person you are? Read on.

Look Down
Do you see a penis? Do you also see a vagina? Then chances are, you’re a hermaphrodite. You’re kind of a sexual freak. Hey, if you’re even halfway decent looking, you should seriously consider a career in the porn industry. Lots of perverts would love to check you out. However, you might want to save some of that money for a sex change operation (or whatever you’d call that kind of thing). I mean, let’s face it, your dating options are pretty limited. Or maybe they’re wide open. Guess it all depends on how you look at it — the situation, not that vagenis between your legs.

Library Check
Quick, who’s your favorite author? Do you have more than one? If you do, chances are, you’re a loner. When it comes to socializing, you’d rather curl up with a good book than go out and. . .well, just go out. There’s nothing wrong with that. But why not spice things up a bit? Next time, select a novel with an adventurous storyline. That way you could do all sorts of exciting things without actually doing them. Cool, huh?

Cat Check
How many cats do you have? If you had to think about that for even a second, you’ve got to be a loner. But that’s okay. Cats are cool. And when they’re not crapping in your house, hacking up hairballs and tearing up your curtains, they can be pretty fucking adorable.

Look Next To You
Is somebody sitting to your right? What about to your left? Is there anyone even in the room? In the entire house? What about next door? If you answered no to these questions, you’re definitely a loner. You may also be a hermit living in a cave. In which case, I’m really impressed that you were able to download this. But if you really are a hermit, don’t you think having a computer and a T1 line is kind of breaking the rules a bit? Just wondering.

Embrace Your Frightened Inner Child
A lot of loners don’t know what to do once they’ve discovered their, uh, lonerness…ness. They try to fight it. Maybe they go out to a party and pretend to have a good time. Or worse, they go on a date. Crazy, I know. But they’re in denial. They’re not like us well-adjusted loners who understand the situation and have learned to enjoy life to the fullest, as long as we don’t have to actually be around anybody. Rather than eat dinner with friends, we eat by ourselves. Instead of hiking with a buddy, we walk by ourselves. And instead of playing b-ball with the boys, we play with ourselv. . . Okay, now hold on. That’s not what I meant. Really. Oh, just forget it. You don’t understand anyway. Why don’t you just go out to one of your parties or something? Frankly, I don’t care what you do. Just as long as you leave me alone.

For a while, I was participating in something called Buzznet. It?s a place where you can share your snapshots with the world. Some people just post their images. Other people include a little story. Of course, I was more like the latter. And for a while there, people seemed to really enjoy what I was offering.

How did I know? There?s a comment feature. All it takes is a few seconds to say how you feel about a shot (?Nice color.? ?Cool.? ?Great pic.? ?Scary.?) And I got a lot of them. Well, for a while, at least. Then they started tapering off, until I got to the point where I was wondering why I was bothering.

It?s not like it?s that easy to post your images to Buzznet. I used to be able to post them via e-mail, but that?s been full of glitches for a while. So I was forced to post through the Web interface. One image at a time. Needless to say, it?s rather time-consuming. And although I really have nothing else better to do, I?d rather not do it anymore.

Why quit now? Well, if you?ve been following my blog, you won?t be surprised. I?ve been known to participate in something for a relatively long period of time and then just drop out. It?s my M.O. But the main reason I?m quitting now is that I?ve become way too obsessed with the Buzznet site.

I visit my Buzznet site at least eight times a day and I check the Buzznet sites of others even more. I read the comments. I see what people have been up to. And, frankly, I?m starting to feel kind of creepy about doing it. Why should I be so obsessed with everyone else?s lives? Who gives a shit? I do. But I?m trying to let go.

I thought it would be clever to write a post about leaving Buzznet that was exactly 1,000 words. But then I realized how many words 1,000 really is ?- way too many. So, fuck it. You?re just gonna have to settle for 348.

The morning started off like any other for me. I had a light breakfast, did the shower thing and I was in the process of flossing my teeth. The radio was on the local “alternative” station and they were currently running their commercials. Of course, I ignored most of them, until I heard one of the DJ’s come on to interview one of their employees about the new Lexus IS. Hey, that’s my car, I thought to myself. They had my attention.

The girl and the DJ raved about the handling and the performance features of the car. They couldn’t believe how responsive it was. The DJ said he beat a Mercedes off the line that morning (as if that was a big deal). Sure, the whole commercial seemed like a rather pathetic attempt to make my car more popular. But It all sounded very positive. That was until the girl uttered one sentence that changed the way I see my mode of transportation: “Besides, who can resist a girl driving a Lexus?” Thirty seconds later, I was driving a chick car.

Have you ever said something before that you wish you never said? Well, I do that a lot. Basically, it’s my insecurity coming out in the form of words:

“I’m never doing that again.”

“I don’t belong.”

“It’s not my cup of tea.”

“Thanks for putting up with me.”

Can you blame anyone for giving up on me? Damn, there’s that insecurity again. I apologize. I’m such an idiot. Actually, I’m not. I just have a lot of issues. I’m a good person, really. I just come across as an asshole. Have you noticed how every good thing I say about myself is immediately followed by a negative statement to counteract it? This is what I do. It’s not good a thing. And, honestly, it’s hard to stop.

I’ve been like this for most of my life. It’s ingrained in my psyche. But I’m trying to change. Really. It’s just so fucking hard to do. So if you do happen to see me at a party and you notice me sitting by myself and not participating in the conversation, don’t think it’s because I’m a dick. I’m just fucking scared to death. Anyhow, that’s if you see me at a party. Fuck. There I go with those negative statements again. Bleh.

Boy, wasn’t that a funny post.