We mustn't dwell...

No, not today. We CAN'T.

Not on Firefox Download Day!

Over the years I've had many, many jobs. And to celebrate Bring Your Blog Readership to Work Day I thought I'd share some of those jobs with you.

Back in the 80's I worked on Wall Street for a while. I drove a hard bargain, but sadly after my third heart attack I had to quit.

After that I moved to Seattle and became a barista. I could sling a mean cuppa joe. No, seriously. I'd throw cups of coffee at customers. I got fired right away.

Then I tried house painting for a bit. But you know what ended up getting painted? My wallet!*

I settled on being a dog trainer after that. Above is a shot of me right before I got my face ripped off by a client. Literally.

Finally I ended up as a UPS delivery guy, and was proud that I could coin the phrase, "What can Brown do for you, sweet cheeks?"

Way to insult me, Twix. I'll be sure to buy some of your butter cookies topped with caramel and coated in milk chocolate real soon.

Jackasses.

The other day I was talking to my mom about my trip to Colorado, and the subject of my altitude sickness came up.

Me: It actually made me feel kinda sick.
Mom: Well maybe if you were a little taller that kind of thing wouldn't happen.
Me: Yeah, that's enough. I've got to go.

The best internet ad I've seen this morning?

Because first and foremost I'm going to assume that the Free Celebrity Toolbar knows the innermost thoughts of...I'm gonna say Hillary Beck. That sounds like a celebrity, right? No, seriously, who is that woman?

If only I could read her innermost thought via toolbar.

While getting tea yesterday at my new favorite coffee shop on Clark I noticed a book: The Maxwell House Coffee Cookbook.

The book was published in 1964, and basically all it has is recipes of things with coffee in them. But not normal things like coffee cake or, oh, I don't know, coffee brownies maybe. No, it has beef stroganoff with coffee in it. From the recipe: "Meanwhile, add instant coffee, 1/2 cup water and 1 teaspoon of salt to the meat." Mmm!!!

Other meals that Maxwell House seemed to believe would be better if instant coffee were added to them?

- Coffee Glazed Ham Slice
- Roast Lamb with Coffee Gravy
- Shrimp Tempura with Coffee Sweet-Sour Sauce

Dear god I wish I was making this up.

...And because I love you people, I went the extra mile and found The Maxwell House Coffee Cookbook on Amazon. I'm sure if you order now you can still get it in time for Father's Day and let your dad know how much you dislike him.

The other day Drea was picking something out of her teeth.

Me: You're such a lady.
Drea: Hey! I am a lady!
Me: Earlier today you wiped your mouth with your skirt.

UR Book Smarts is back. And to catch us up right quick I reviews 8 books in 3 minutes. If I knew math I could tell you how many books per minute that boils down to, but I don't know math. That's why I'm a writer.

I think that by now most of you know my penchant for starting websites (or at least attempting to).

There was the pizza blog, A Slice (of Life) and Pizza. That died kinda quickly.

Then there was Stalkr. That too died a quick death.

And does anyone even remember InterestingPeopleOnly.com?

Well now I've started a new one: YourFaceIsStupid.com. Mostly this began out of disbelief that no one had taken the name yet. "It's such a great domain!" I thought to myself. So I bought it. But then, what to do with it?

So I've started accepting pictures of people's stupid faces and posting them.

Below is just a sample of some of the beautiful mugs you'll find by visiting YourFaceIsStupid.com:

And just how can you get involved? Just email your photo to submit@yourfaceisstupid.com and sit back to enjoy the benefits. And by 'benefits' I mean 'ridicule from your friends'. Sorry, sometimes my English doesn't translate too well.

Yesterday, walking into my building, my doorman hollered out: "Yo! You've got a package."

"Oh really?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, "but for some reason it's addressed to Joel instead of Josh."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know what it is."

About a month ago I did some web-type work on Librarian Girl's blog. Her friend did the header, I did the rest, and everyone else lived happily ever after.

LG insisted on paying me, but I refused to let her do any such thing. So the other day I got this email:

"Watch for a bottle of wine in your mail soon. I normally wouldn't announce the gift-giving ahead of time since that's kind of weird, but there wasn't really a spot for me on the order form to send you a card along with it, so I didn't want you to receive a mysterious bottle of wine and not know that it was from me."

Sweet, no? It might have been sweeter if I hadn't received a second email a few minutes later.

"Ok, this is the most-prefaced gift ever given, but I have to say one more thing.

Have a great day, Joel."

Oh LG. As long as I get my booze, you can call me whatever you want.

So remember a while back when I wrote that article about giving up my TV?

Well even after I had canceled my cable I still had my TV just sitting there.

So the past weekend I finally thought, It's just taking up space now. I should get it out of of here.

So I did. And what's taking its place?

That's right, I'm taking a huge step backward. Not only will I not be able to sit back and watch something, I'll have to write my own something. On a typewriter.

Earlier in the week I had mailed a package from the local post office-type place down the block from me. They handle FedEx and UPS, have shipping materials, and host P.O. boxes. It's a convenient little place run by two older gay men.

The other day, while mailing something, I went to pay with a credit card. "It has to be over $5 for a credit card," the guy told me. Sadly, I had no cash. "It's okay, I recognize you," the guy told me. "Just pay next time you're in."

Yesterday I stopped in to buy some stamps. The other owner was working, and I said to him "I was in here the other day, and I only had a credit card, so I-" He cut me off, looking at a small piece of paper taped to the register. "Was it on Tuesday?" he asked. I nodded. He read off the piece of paper: "Cute guy with glasses." I could feel myself turn red, and nodded. I suppose that was me.

At least it's better than some of the other ways people identify their customers.

Yesterday, as I enter an ATM vestibule, a woman passes by me, leaving. As I approach the ATM she has just used the machine angerly beeps and flashes at me, and I realize she has left her card in the slot. I grab the card, running out into the street and waving her down as she's stepping into a cab. "I love you!" she says, taking her card. I nod and say you're welcome.

When I get back into the vestibule the man at the second ATM - who has watched this entire occurrence - scoffs at me. "You shouldn't have done that, buddy," he says, shaking his head at me like I just screwed up big time. "What? Why?" I ask.

"How else is she ever gonna learn her lesson?" he asks, a superior smirk on his face. "Huh?" I say. When he doesn't respond I say, "I mean, wouldn't you want someone to give you back your card? Haven't you ever forgotten yours somewhere?" The man doesn't respond, but simply shakes his head at me and goes back to taking out his money.

Sometimes I wonder why I never have trouble getting a date, and then I remember that my competition is assholes like this.

Last night Byron and I were out having a few cocktails. Towards the end of the night I started texting Drea.

"Aww," Byron said. "Are you two calling each other 'Schmoopsie'?"

I looked at him, repulsed. "No," I said. "We call each other 'Dillweed'."