"Me? Seriously?" is usually followed by a thoroughly baffled "Why?"

Significantly, seldom has the woman used the present tense. The crush is always in the past. As in "I used to have a crush on you." I can't help but mentally complete their sentence.

...but then you opened your mouth and ruined it.

What's the "used to" about, besides giving me a complex? As always, I have my thoughts, but I want to hear yours first.

This was only 24 years ago, but it somehow feels like centuries.

And then I watched the DVD extras on "Sin City." Included among them is behind-the-scenes footage in which Clive Owen and Benecio del Toro perform take after take of one scene. Before each take, we watch our hero Clive dig for boogers.

Now, perhaps this is simply professionalism. Perhaps Sir Lawrence Olivier himself was in up to his wrist between takes. But one thing's for certain: my heterosexuality is not in imminent danger. The only way Owen could be any less hot is if he actually ate the booger.

If I had a nickel for every time this woman gave me a "You don't really believe the nonsense that's coming out of your mouth, do you?" stare, I'd be a...

Actually, I pretty much do have those nickels. Those nickels bought my house. That stare has been fairly unremitting for 11 years.

Fact: in our previous gig together, Annette kept a folder of all my resignations. How does one quit multiple times, you reasonably ask? One has a boss who guilts him into staying for her sake. To borrow from Seinfeld, quitting on Annette is like knocking over a Coke machine. You don't knock it right over; you have to rock it back and forth a few times first.

Me: "So what are your favorite genres of music?"

Her (after reflection): "I'd have to say movie soundtracks."

Yeah. I know. Clearly, she was cute.

Most famously, it was her driveway in which I parked my car and, my eyes on her as I exited, proceeded to clobber her car's door with my own. It is certainly one of my all-time date lowlights. Another would follow two hours later.

A Portland resident, she wanted to dine at Jake's Famous Crawfish, a choice akin to going to the Space Needle restaurant. Lousy tourist traps, these restaurants. But dine there we did, and during dinner, I asked a fairly standard date question.

"What would your last boyfriend tell me about you?"

Chewing on some—let's face it—bait, she regarded this question seriously. Wow, I thought. I can actually see the critical thought happening in there. That's encouraging. I bet she even—

"He'd say that I have a perfect cervix," she replied proudly, the bait now tumbling in her open mouth like socks in a dryer.

"Excuse me?"

"Paul always said that I have the most perfect cervix he'd ever seen."

Seen? Like with stirrups and a miner's helmet?

"How on earth does one cervix differ from another?"

"I don't know. They just do."

There was no second date.

"Huh? I mean...how? WHY?"

Jane has this effect on a lot of people. Here's your answer, such as it is.

She had met the guy through match.com, naturally. During the email phase of courtship where you or I would might write about food or pets or travel, he sent her a photo of his member. Which she still had on her phone the night we talked about his magnificence. So really, in what passes for Jane's thought process, she was simply marshaling evidence to support an argument.

The latest Staff of Perfection, attached to a 33 year old, is said to stay aloft for three hours or more

should be amended thusly:

The latest Staph of Perfection, attached to a 33 year old, is said to stay aloft for three hours or more

Fake: 99.47%
Plausible: .53%

What fun!

Sampling of reader comments:

he's 1 hour away from a trip to the ER.

Having sampled more than my share of cocks, none of them "perfect" (although many of them quite delightful in their own way) I would say that not only is "Jane's" latest pestle using pharmaceuticals, I'd be willing to bet Jane is abusing a substance that affects her perception of time.

Fake, but I wouldn't burst her bubble. Well, yes I would; it's what pricks do.

This particular superpower is reserved for 13-year olds, I'm sorry.

possible in the way that its possible for there to be a tiny invisible teapot orbiting mars right now, sure!

His entire life? I bet he gave his parents a shock the first time he did that...

And my personal fave:

BASF doesn't make the cock. BASF makes the cock better.

Dorkass checks in, not realizing that "Jane" is someone she's met and already pronounced nuts:

Not in my experience. She sounds like a nutcase.

P.S. I've been told that I have a perfect cervix.

"Honestly, it looks like every other one I've ever seen," I'll say. "Except for the herpes sores, it looks pretty much like my own. I couldn't tell them apart."

"BULLSHIT!" Jane yells. "You're just jealous!"

Mind you, I'm not arguing that Jane is a well person.

The latest Staph [sic] of Perfection, attached to a 33 year old, is said to stay aloft for three hours or more, every single time. He can ejaculate multiple times without it losing any of its blood-gorged glory. Every single time.

"Nah, that didn't come from a pill," I said.

"HE'S BEEN ABLE TO DO THAT HIS ENTIRE LIFE!" Jane yelled.

"And you know this how?"

"HE TOLD ME! OH SHUT UP. YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING. YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS."

"Yeah. Kinda like I'm jealous of how much work Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are able to knock out in one evening."

But I put it to you, fair readers. Is this superpower plausible?

At one point, an eagle circled overhead. In his talons was a snake. "Wouldn't it be something," my very naked self thought, "if he—"

He did. I don't know if the snake bit the eagle or what, but soon the snake plummeted earthward, landing a mere 10 feet from the hot tub.

"You MISSED!" I shouted upward, not toward the eagle but toward the heavens. If one could easily chant "God" to the taunting "air-ball!" melody, I would have at that moment.

But what does it say about me that I was vaguely disappointed, that with the snake mid-air, I was already mentally writing a post about God raining snakes in my hot tub?

Wow, was I ever mistaken. I thought it was my favorite sport. I am chagrined. Dismissed. Humiliated. I'm going to toss all those ticket stubs from the two dozen college football stadiums and two championship games I've visited.

I don't know what I'll do on Saturdays, now. I guess I'll cling to some guns and pray for the price of arugula to drop.

Let me tell you a story 'bout a dog named Ed.
Couldn't find her ass if it wuz stapled to her head.

"Poindexter," I've noticed, sings exceedingly well to the Bonanza theme song.

She's the 'tard who won't shit in the yard,
Poin-dex-TER!

Grab my gun and a rope and that furry little dope, and I'll hang her from Percy's tree.

Speaking of trees, a forest she'll deplete, Poin-dex-TER!

No more paper towels in the house, you shit-stained little louse, so I'll use Sarah's vintage tee.

The Monster Cable FM transmitter for iPhones sucks ass like few products I've ever owned. As soon as I got it, I was looking to get rid of it. Opportunity knocked last week.

When I got the new, redesigned Mophie battery pack for my iPhone 3G, the first thing I noticed was that the port on the bottom was USB instead of the old iPod port. One quick test later, and voila, yes, now data (in addition to power) could be passed through the Mophie. This wasn't possible before. Soon I was dreaming about plugging my phone/Mophie combo into my car stereo.

But precious little information was available on the Web, and what I found said it couldn't be done. So I grabbed a USB cable and went to electronics stores. Pairing with most of the car stereos with front USB ports usually had one of two problems: the iPhone didn't recognize the stereo, so I was bonked with the annoying "This accessory isn't compatible" message, or the stereo recognized the songs on the iPhone but wouldn't allow me much control of them.

And then I found the Sony CDX-GT630. So seldom in life do you think "Wouldn't it be nice if such-and-such were possible" and it's actually possible.

It works perfectly, right through the Mophie. I listen to tunes and sort by artist, playlist, album etc. by using the stereo's interface. It charges the Mophie, which in turn charges the phone. When I get a call, the music fades out automatically. It's very nearly perfect. The only cost I've found is that, in that the iPod part of the phone transfers all control to the stereo (and its UI disappears on the phone), I can't watch videos while listening to the audio over the stereo. And I bet even this is possible and I just haven't figured it out. Either way, all I would have to do is use an audio cable. A small price to pay.

iPhone 3G with Mophie battery pack, velcroed to my dash and charging by USB cable from Sony CDX-GT630, which is playing song from the iPhone