The movie was The Count of Monte Cristo.

One of many books I had heard of when I was younger and always intended to read one day, but never got around to it. Though now that I see the movie and how good it is. Knowing reading the book is always exceptionally better. Well, the vast majority of the time it is. I now want to find myself a copy of the book.

Now this isn't a movie, or by the looks of it a book, that everyone will like. In fact I'm pretty sure the number of people who dislike it far out weigh the number who do.

If you liked movies set to around two hundred years ago where men of "honor" dueled with swords and black powder pistols over a minor discretion. Then I'd say you would probably like this movie.

If your favorite style of movie is more popular formulas like the American Pie movies, or the Scream movies. Chances are you won't like this movie.

Now if you loved the movie Freddy Got Fingered. I feel sorry for you and pray you find some way to redeem that lost hour and half of your life.

Can anyone tell I'm not the biggest fan of Tom Green?

Well if you haven't, then here is a little tid about me....I don't like work.

There, now since thats setled, lets move on.

Now orginally yesterday I was going to do an entire entry about how anoyingly nasty it is to have your bathroom products fall into your open toilet bowl.

I was going to do that, but my internet connection decided that hey......tonight seems like a good night to have off. In other words the flaming piece of shit couldn't be moved even if I offered it twinkie's and porn.

Cause we all know the suffering one most go through when something of importance falls into the toilet. Especially if you have one of those shelving units you place above your toilet.

You pack that thing full of all sorts of crap that has no place other then in your bathroom. Packs of toilet paper, shampoo and conditioner, razor and cream, tooth brush and paste, hair products, facial products, contacts solution, denter cup, monthly subscription to spank and tickle magazine.

You name it, that shit is somewhere on that shelving unit just waiting for a clumsy day when you knock something off. And when you do you just stare at it in honor and hope like hell the damn thing doesn't land in the toilet. If it doesn't, you want to do a little victory dance. Get your James Brown funk on to show how glad you are that you won't be sticking your hand in the toilet tonight.

Though when something does finally land with a big splash. You curse like hell and hope the damn thing is small enough to flush.

Cause as tough as you maybe or act in life, no one wants to stick there hand in the toilet. The same recepticol your body dumps all its waste products on a multi-daily fashion. All that crap you stuffed in your body while eating and your body's way of saying "Ok, we don't need this shit, pack it up and ship it off."

We especially don't want to do it when our luck is running on the bitterly ironice setting. Meaning you happened to drop something to big to flush before you flushed said waste product.

Christ, I don't want to stick my hand in........THAT!

So maybe you get creative and decide you never really use those salad tongs in the kitchen drawer. I'm sure I can get *whatever fell in* out with those salad tongs. I just never will use them ever again.

Of course if your life is a walking comedy act waiting to happen like mine. You'll use the salad tongs to get the item out of the toilet then set them aside and forget about them. Only to find months later your roomate or girl/boyfriend using said salad tongs to serve you her/his to die for salad.

Folks I'm not saying something like that has happened to yours truely.

The true moral of this story is try to keep your hand out of shit at all costs. And just remember that if you use the salad tongs to keep this from happening. Remember to break apart, melt them down, THEN throw them away.

You can never be safe. Especially when you are talking about the possibilities of eating your own shit.

Now if you thought that last part was nasty. Then I highly suggest you stop reading now and come back for another day.

Though for the ladies, despite this you might want to stick around because I'm going to delve into one of the deep down dirty secrets all us men must live with on a daily basis.

Balls are sweaty little bastards.

Oh sure I know what a lot of your ladies are thinking.

DUR!! I already knew that crack head. Whats so new about that?

Because I am sure quite a few of you have come to realize, and probably the hard way. Ew, his balls are all wet and nasty.

Now to reasure some of you ladies in case you where wondering. By no means is that any run off of pee that just happened to liberaly coat our nut sack. No thats not drippings either, those usually end up on our shoes or if poorly aimed, on our pant leg.

The fact is that its kind of cavernous down there with a lot of loose, hairy skin. And because of "society preassures" we are forced to wear pants for about eight to sixteen hours a day.

Damn you society, now my balls are sweaty and icky.

And let me tell you, heat down there is not condusive to a large patch of fertile swimmers. Heat is bad for those little guys. Especially if you insist on wearing those ball hugging jocky like underwear. Its like having your own portable sauna wrapped around each of the ping pong balls of life. Heat kills your sperm thus lessoning your sperm count by millions making it impossible to pull a porn like "money shot".

You're killing a nation worth of swimmers each day just cause you need to be wearing your fruit of looms. I know as kids it was the thing to do, but as adults do we really need to be wearing the tighty whiteys to get that "smuggling plums" look.

And because of this, unless you hang your balls down into that cold toilet. Ball sweat on the toilet seat.

Really there is nothing nasiter to go into someones bathroom and see the evidence of ball sweat not cleaned up off the seat. Little droplets of perspiration or a pubic hair clinging on for dear life like you super glued on there.

Once again there is moral to this story.

Tighty whiteys make the baby jesus cry. And when you're done fishing out your toothbrush from the toilet with your soon to be destroyed salad tongs. Remember to wipe off your nut sweat from the toilet seat.

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Oh, one last thing. Thank you all who said happy birthday in my guestbook.

It's about time - Wednesday, Jul. 07, 2004
An Honor for Chrome - Friday, Feb. 20, 2004
A great loss - Monday, Oct. 20, 2003
a terrible announcement. - Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003
Chrome speaks: - Friday, Sept. 05, 2003