This video is awesome – this guy uses this site called Chat Roulette to chat with random people and improvise songs with the piano, and he has a great experience, chatting with a great variety of people from different races, genders, and ages. I loved the idea so I did what I like to do, and I stole the idea for myself.

I planned on just doing some improv comedy, almost like a stand up picking on people in the audience. I went through 10 different chatters, and here's what I got:

Chatter #1: Man jerking off

Chatter #2: Man jerking off

Chatter #3: Man in ninja costume jerking off

Chatter #4: Businessman in suit who stood up and started jerking off

Chatter #5: Photo of a girl that got torn down to show a guy jerking off.

Chatter #6: Tranny jerking off

Chatter #7: 90-year old grandmother. Who started jerking off.

Chatter #8: Monkey jerking off another monkey.

Chatter #9: Man tucking his junk and asking if I'd fuck him because he'd fuck himself. While jerking off.

Chatter #10: Catholic bishop. Jerking off a little boy.

I think the guy must have rigged his.

…

…

Jesus, you're a slow reader. C'mon!

…

…

Okay, well, that list is now defunct. Aren't you glad you just wasted all that time? That list of 100 things about me was written by a married man who weighed 420 pounds, hated leaving the house, and generally feared doing a lot of things. And while I still have a way to go before I'm the polar opposite of who I was then, I think that I have a different perspective on life and new goals for myself. As a result, I think it's time for a new list of things about Adam Heath Avitable.

And what better way to start than listing 5 new habits I have?

100. Swiffering. Monday nights is reserved for naked Swiffering. The nudity isn't related to the Swiffering – it just happens to coincide. My new house is a four-bedroom home with tile everywhere except the three guest rooms, which I don't really enter anyway. I have one of those Swiffers that has a vacuum attachment, so I do a dry run through the house and then switch out for the wet Swiffer pads and usually go through 3-4 of those mopping the whole house. There's something freeing about Swiffering, although I don't know if it's the part about getting the house clean or doing it bare-ass naked. Well, with socks on.

99. Making my bed. The last time I made a bed regularly, it was 1988. Now that it's just my bed, though, I've found that I enjoy making it look nice, so every morning I make the bed, arrange all six pillows on it, even if I'm the only one who's going to see it all day. I used to feel like making a bed was a stupid endeavor because you were only going to mess it up again 12 hours later, but something's changed, and now it feels wrong if it's unmade. Even if I take a nap in the middle of the day, I'll remake it as soon as I get up.

98. Doing laundry. I rarely did laundry while I was married. It wasn't because I expected Amy to do it – she just did it as a matter of habit, and I didn't stop her. Over the last few years, when she traveled, I'd do my own laundry, but usually that meant waiting until I had no clothes left, and then throwing everything into one load and not folding anything. Now, though, I do my laundry once a week, which includes all my sheets and towels, too. And I fold everything. I hang up all of my shirts, fold my underwear, pair my socks, and put everything away quickly. The last time I was single was during law school, and I owned enough socks and underwear to wait almost 60 days before doing laundry. That's how I expected I would be now, so this desire to laundry and the resulting enjoyment I get from it, is really alien to me.

97. Walking. Amy and I share custody of Jigsaw, our dog. Every weekday, I go over to the old house in the morning and whistle for her, and she runs out through the back door and over to the side gate. I drive her over here and she stays with me all day until I drive her home in the evening. It's nice for Jigsaw to have company, and it's nice for me to get to see my dog. I've also started taking her on a walk every afternoon and have kept this up almost the last three to four weeks consecutively. It's good for her, good for me, and gives me a chance to show my neighbors that I'm not some crazy Unabomber type living alone who never leaves his house.

96. Setting an alarm. In my old life, I would usually wake up somewhere between 6:30-7:30 every morning, depending how late I stayed up the night before. Amy isn't the quietest person in the morning, and between her and the dog, I didn't need an alarm. Now, however, I've worried about a quiet house meaning I'll sleep until noon if unchecked. So, until I buy an alarm clock, I just set up my iPhone alarm, which plays a ring tone I select as the alarm. This means that on no less than four different occasions, I have woken up thinking that the person to whom the ring tone belongs was calling me. I subsequently spent several futile minutes trying to answer it until the fog of sleep lifted and I realized exactly how stupid I was. And only once did I try to call that person back at 6 in the morning.

Stay tuned next week for Part 2: 5 Different Pubic Hairstyles*

*no, not really

"Mission: Impossible" and "Airplane!" star Peter Graves was found dead last night at the age of 83 under mysterious circumstances, and as one of the preeminent journalists who has a picture of themselves eating ice cream with Hitler, I was invited to interview him:

Me: Hi Peter, thanks for meeting with me.

PG: (in a whisper) I am not Peter. I'm on a top-secret mission and my name is Dyed. Howie Dyed.

Me: Well, I'm here to interview Peter Graves and I wanted to find out how he died.

PG: Yes?

Me: Oh, I see what you did there. Two can play that game. Have you ever been in a Turkish prison, Peter?

PG: I told you, Peter's not here.

Me: But he-

PG: Oh, Buddy's been in a Turkish prison.

Me: Sigh. And he's the same as Peter Graves?

PG: Andy? No, Andy has nothing to do with Peter Graves.

Me: Now I'm confused how he-

PG: Yes?

Me: Okay. I want to talk to Peter. Will he-

PG: Willy's in the other room.

Me: Oh. My. God. I want to punch you so f-

PG: Yusuf? That's our target. Have you seen him?

Me: That didn't even sound like the same thing! Now I know you're just fucking with me.

PG: King Withme is Yusuf's boss. Whose side are you on?

Me: Youon isn't here right now.

PG: Don't be a moron.

Corey Haim
My Grandmother
Roy Scheider
Zelda Rubinstein and J.D. Salinger
Brittany Murphy
Oral Roberts
John Lennon
Ken Ober
Henry Gibson
Patrick Swayze
Ted Kennedy
John Hughes
Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett
Walter Cronkite
Billy Mays
Ed McMahon
Stephen Hawking
Robert Novak
Caylee Anthony
David Carradine
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Wearing our strawberry hats

I went to the Florida Strawberry Festival yesterday with a couple of friends, and while they apparently have concerts and pig races and a fairway and crafts and all types of other stuff, we went for the food:

Deep fried Pepsi was concentrated Pepsi syrup fried in dough. Eating this was like having all the bite of a Pepsi in one squirt. It was weirdly appealing. Deep fried butter was amazing – a frozen ball of butter is coated in batter and then deep fried. The butter melts, so when you take a bite, you are essentially drinking hot, delicious butter. I can't think of anything better than that.

Deep Fried Pepsi and Deep Fried Butter

The Krispy Kreme burger was a heart attack waiting to happen, and I can't imagine eating a whole one by myself. You take two hot, fresh Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts, and slap a thin burger patty with cheese and bacon in between. The sweet and salty combination made this our favorite food of the entire day.

Krispy Kreme Burger

Take salty, crispy Hormel bacon and a chocolate dipping sauce with the consistency of a fondue, and you have a winner. The chocolate dipped bacon was just a better variation on the whole "French Fry in the Frosty" thing that all of us have tried at some point.

Chocolate Dipped Bacon

No visit to the Strawberry Festival is complete without some strawberry shortcake. The strawberries are the freshest you could possibly find, and the shortcake is soft and moist. Definitely a favorite, even if it's simple.

Strawberry Shortcake

In conclusion: We drove an hour and a half to spend three hours eating some of the unhealthiest foods known to mankind and managed to avoid doing anything at all socially relevant or participatory at the same time. All in all, win win.

I know this went live a few days ago, but it is pretty exciting! And fucking Team Jacob all the way!

They're generally uncomfortable and hot and restrict your movement and have no purpose other than a dress code. They're only slightly more useful than a tie.

From the years of 2001 until 2008, I didn't even own a pair of pants of any type. I lived in Southern California and then Florida, so all I needed were shorts. I finally broke down in 2009 and bought a pair of jeans, but that was about it.

For my grandmother's funeral yesterday, I went out and bought a pair of black slacks. This might be the first pair of black pants that I have ever owned. I bought these pants out of a sense of obligation. First of all, there may have been some discussion among family members about how my post was a bit disrespectful, so I wanted to show respect at the funeral. Secondly, I just knew that my mother would probably stab me in the face if I walked into the house in a pair of shorts. And I like my face. And finally, I realized that I really didn't hate wearing the tuxedo for Britt's birthday prom, so maybe owning a pair of pants would be a good idea.

And you know what? They were comfortable, I liked how I felt and looked, and none of the issues I had with pants in previous years seemed to really exist anymore. Pants really aren't so bad after all. In fact, I might even start to like them.

Welcome to my life, pants.

Photo by findmew

Me: Hi Corey, thanks for talking with me.

CH: It's my pleasure. I want all of my fans to know that I'm okay. They don't need to worry.

Me: Well, most of your fans are in their late 30s and early 40s and probably have plenty of other shit to worry about now. But I'll pass along the message.

CH: I appreciate it. I know that my demographic might skew a little older now that I'm older, but to many of them, I'll always be Sam or Lucas.

Me: I wouldn't know. I've never seen Lost Boys or Lucas and the only time I've ever heard of you was the horrible "License to Drive".

CH: Really?

Me: Yup! Now the other Corey? I loved him in Goonies.

CH: Felllldmannn. Don't even get me started.

Me: I thought you guys got along now?

CH: Are you kidding? The guy is a grade-A douchebag. Have you ever heard him speak?

Me: Yeah, he kind of oozes when he talks.

CH: Did you ever see that clip they showed on The Soup where Feldman sang at his wife? He thought that was romantic and now he'll only have sex when they play that song.

Me: Ok, that's creepy.

CH: Dude, tell me about it. I've spent my whole life trying to get away from Corey fucking Feldman, but he just won't die! He's like a cockroach. That's why I did what I did.

Me: What's that?

CH: You know.

Me: Umm, no I don't.

CH: Sure you do!

Me: Pretend I don't.

CH: That's why I died!

Me: You committed suicide to get away from Corey Feldman?

CH: Well, kind of, but it has its perks.

Me: It does?

CH: Yeah! I'm really strong now and I can fly!

Me: Ummm….

CH: And I can see at night and I will live forever!

Me: Umm, Corey? Do you think that you're a vampire now?

CH: Yeah! See? Look at my fangs!

Me: Those are just your canine teeth and I think mine are sharper looking than that.

CH: But look how pale I am!

Me: That's because you're dead.

CH: Yeah, see? Undead!

Me: No. Just. Plain. Dead.

CH: I'm a vampire – watch me lift this chair with one hand!

Me: A child with polio could lift that chair.

CH: Bah! You're just an unbeliever. I'll show you.

Me: What are you doing? Did you just poop your pants?

CH: No! I'm trying to turn into a bat!

Me: Oh. I think if you're not careful you might-

CH: I just pooped myself.

Me: And there we go.

CH: But . . . but I wanted to become more famous than Feldman!

Me: Sorry, buddy. Good luck in whatever place it is that washed up TV child-stars go!

CH: *sniff* I am a vampire. I am a vampire. I am a vampire. *sniff*

Me: Please stop biting me.

My Grandmother
Roy Scheider
Zelda Rubinstein and J.D. Salinger
Brittany Murphy
Oral Roberts
John Lennon
Ken Ober
Henry Gibson
Patrick Swayze
Ted Kennedy
John Hughes
Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett
Walter Cronkite
Billy Mays
Ed McMahon
Stephen Hawking
Robert Novak
Caylee Anthony
David Carradine
Martin Luther King, Jr.

While the media has picked up on a few of his answers as being relevantly creepy ("What's your best time?" "Nighttime.") and predictive, I have an actual transcript that shows his serial killer nature even more explicitly:

Question: Bachelor #1, we go on our second date. I don't like the beach or the movies. Where would you take me?
Answer: I'd blindfold you and drive you somewhere secluded where just the two of us could enjoy a very special time.

Question: Bachelor #1, if we got into an argument and I told you to leave, what would you do?
Answer: Oh no, we can't have that. I don't even let Mother talk to me in that tone. I'm not a naughty boy and don't deserve to be punished!

Question: Bachelor #1, what do you look for in a girl that you want to date?
Answer: Weak arms and no long fingernails.

Question: Bachelor #1, what is the most appealing part of your personality?
Answer: It depends whether or not I've given into the rage or appeased it with a sacrifice.

Question: Bachelor #1, it's our fourth date, and I've invited you into my home. What base would you try to get to?
Answer: Fourteenteen red.

Question: Bachelor #2, why should I choose you?
Answer: Well, first of all, because I'm not a fucking serial killer. I mean, c'mon, have any of you even been listening to Bachelor #1? He's creeping me out with the drooling and Charles Manson hair and the way he keeps touching himself. I'm telling you, if you go with him, you will die.

Question: Bachelor #1, same question.
Answer: Because you and I would fit together like a glove and a ball, or like a skin suit and a person wearing said skin suit.
(Bachelor #2): SEE??!??

I'd transcribe more, but that's when he pulled the dead cat out from his jacket and began to swing it around his head by the tail and called it his Jesus Helicopter Cat. You can't get much more explicit than that, people.

Nana (pictured here with Uncle Saddam)

My grandmother, pictured above with her second favorite dictator, passed away Friday night. This is the same grandmother I've written about previously. She was suffering from the late stages of Alzheimer's, and her death, while sad, was merciful.

Eileen was the oldest of 15 children. She raised many of her younger brothers and sisters as if they were her own children, and supported many of them, paying for college and other expenses, just like a parent. She was the matriarch to the Irish Catholic side of my family. By the time I knew her, she was the very strict, serious, older lady that you didn't dare disappoint. She was very religious, never swore, was fair to each grandchild to a fault, and disapproved of fully half of anything that a child would do. This isn't to say that she didn't love – she cared deeper than she showed, and loved everyone equally and unconditionally. But you sure as fuck didn't want to do anything to disappoint her. "You had better hope that your Nana doesn't hear about this!" was a familiar mantra heard around my home. Today, I got the chance to interview her posthumously which means, thankfully, that her mental state had returned to how she used to be. (NOTE: The following is a PARODY and in no way reflects my actual grandmother, who was about as close to a saint as you could possibly be.)

Me: Hi Nana.

Nana: Hi dear.

Me: I'm sorry you're not here anymore. I miss you.

Nana: Is that why you only visited me once when I was in the home?

Me: It was too hard to see you like that. And I didn't think you'd really want any of us to see you in that state.

Nana: So does this mean you're skipping my funeral too?

Me: If it wasn't to be there for Mom and Papa, I wouldn't go to that, either.

Nana: And what's this I hear about you getting a divorce?

Me: Ohhh, ummm, yeah.

Nana: You know you're going to hell, right?

Me: For getting a divorce? That's not fair.

Nana: No, not for the divorce – that's just what you get for living in sin before you got married.

Me: Then why?

Nana: Because I can see everything now – and there is no way God is letting you into heaven with all of that porn you look at.

Me: You can see THAT?!?

Nana: Yes, and you should be ashamed of yourself. If I wasn't already dead, finding out that there's something called "tranny porn" would have killed me on the spot. And then how would you have liked finding out that you killed your poor grandmother?

Me: But I didn't! And that was just for research purposes.

Nana: You need a hand down your pants to research?

Me: I . . Uh . . Um . . .

Nana: I'm just fucking with you.

Me: NANA!!!

Nana: What? Can't a woman drop an f-bomb on you?

Me: Not when you're my Nana, and I've never even heard you say "hell"!

Nana: I usually reserved that type of language for the bedroom.

Me: Oh God.

Nana: You don't want to hear about me and your grandfather having sex? You do know that your mother wasn't immaculately conceived, even if she's convinced you she was, right?

Me: No no no no no no (rocking back and forth)

Nana: I used to joke that your Papa's name was destined to be Howie . . .

Me: Please stop (crying)

Nana: . . . as in "how he makes me feel down there"

Me: shh shh shh shh no shhh shh

Nana: And by "down there", I mean my vagina.

Me: GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…..

Roy Scheider
Zelda Rubinstein and J.D. Salinger
Brittany Murphy
Oral Roberts
John Lennon
Ken Ober
Henry Gibson
Patrick Swayze
Ted Kennedy
John Hughes
Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett
Walter Cronkite
Billy Mays
Ed McMahon
Stephen Hawking
Robert Novak
Caylee Anthony
David Carradine
Martin Luther King, Jr.