Points to ponder.

Question One: Which is the worst?

a) Waiting, freshly sodomized and stripped naked against the autumn chill, hunched over a hand-dug grave waiting for a drunken death squad cadre to finish taking a leak so that he can properly dispatch you

b) Listening to the sickening crunch as you gnaw through human sinew and gristle in an effort to glean scant sustenance from fellow passengers' pathetic flash-frozen remains following a mountainside plane crash

c) Watching in mute horror as Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie savagely bring down and dine upon the cooling carcass of an unsuspecting tot

d) Going to renew your vehicle registration at a BMV

Question Two: 'owruggedahyah?

You are 5' 10", 260 lbs worth of a bearded Mainer. Let's just say that, theoretically, you are alone in your office on a lovely Sunday afternoon (because it's the only place on the goddamn earth where you can write your thesis in peace) and you happen to spy a roach scuttling across your floor only to disappear into parts unknown.

You shriek. Like, really loudly.

What does this mean?

a) You - concerned about vermin-borne contagion - had made the alleged shrieking sound to ward off the offending beast. The fact that it merely gazed upon you, feelers twitching, with only mild curiosity does not factor into this equation.

b) You have become, magically, a pre-pubescent girl.

c) It never happened. Nobody was there. Nobody can prove it. Your word against the roach's.

Question Three: WTF?

You are given a "cat." This "cat" is, at best, savage; at worst, mindlessly feral. Like, people at work think that you're a cutter. Additionally, this "cat", due to feline asthma, can only use litter so expensive that it is coated with platinum. When it isn't mowling (combination of mewing and howling) for hours on end to be fed at times of the morning generally reserved for gentle slumber or attempting to eviscerate/sodomize the dog, it amuses itself with creating a warm lair by shredding the material out from under your boxspring and burrowing into the hole like one of the creatures in Alien.

What can be done?

a) Bag of lime. Shovel. Rope. Swiss Army knife. Holy water and monstrance.

b) Leave the pilot light on and set off twelve silverfish fog-in-a-can apparatuses before departing for work.

c) Swaddle the beast and leave it in the big empty field where that Romany caravan stops.

d) Upon advice from your own sainted mother, "put the damn thing to sleep."

e) Wear long-sleeve shirts and love it anyway.

Question Four: OMFG, right?

You are working on a graduate thesis and time is running out for you to meet a completely irrational deadline put forth by your retar- uh, developmentally-delayed - department. You meet one of your committee members at an unrelated function and strike up a conversation. At this point, the committe member, despite signing your forms, approving your topic and speaking with you at length several times about it, asks: Do I know you?

What choices have ye?

a) Death.

b) Academic humiliation followed by paralyzing despair, then death.

c) Send dead parakeet on a bed of chrysanthemums anonymously through Fed-Ex with a note written with a "crayon" of dog feces; note to say "Every breath you take..." and only that.

d) Swallow your ego like a mouthful of putrid, week-in-the-sun cottage cheese and move on.

***

Needless to say, my few, it's been a fantastic week.

Until later, I remain,

Domonic (Ineverenvisionsavoryoptions) Potorti