Thought I would share a chaper from the not-soon-to-be-released book I am co-authoring with a delightful lass named Kate Mider. In He Said She Said, we explore the most monumental questions of the 21st century that may (or may not) divide the sexes, such as “Why do all girls think they are ’so like Carrie Bradshaw?’” and “Why do guys sometimes cheat with girls who are (sometimes a lot) less attractive than their girlfriend/wife?”

How this works: – in one chapter, I pose a question and we both answer it. In the next she poses a question and we both answer it. And so on.

My friend covers his ears when his wife pees. Does this mean they’re not as comfortable with each other as they could or should be?

My response:

Being a white male, I have never started a sentence with “I might be in the minority here …” but well, I think its use is justified in this circumstance because although we’ve been conditioned to believe that true love entails an open bathroom door policy, I think that’s just a bunch of malarkey, which I think is Spanish for poo.

So yes, when a girl I am dating uses the bathroom to pee, I cover my ears. Sometimes I take it a step further by cranking up the Metallica, running the food disposal and requesting a flyby of F-16s.

Or I’ll just leave the house for a few hours. If I know she’s had a lot to drink and might need to use the bathroom several times, I’ll get a hotel. Or rent a villa.

First of all, true love is bullshit. That’s just a concept that single people throw around to make themselves feel better when it’s Saturday night at 11:30 and they’re home spooning their dog and eating burritos from the gas station.

If you do believe in true love, so be it. And since you’re not busy next Saturday at 11:30 why don’t you attend a mixer I’m hosting at my town home? The Easter Bunny is bringing wine, the Loch Ness Monster is making fondue, and the three Billy Goats Gruff will be taking care of the beer. So, bring some liquor if you want the hard stuff, otherwise, we’re all set. 

Second of all, let’s assume for the moment that true love does exist. Shakespeare wrote of something comparable in Sonnet 16, when he penned the lines, “Love … is an ever fixed mark that is never shaken. It is the star to every wandering bark.”

So basically, Billy Shakes thinks love in unconquerable. Again, let’s assume this is possible.

Still, having said that, you never see him use the lines, “It’s time for your pee my lady. I trumpet our comfort and doth toast its resounding stream to the applause of fairies.”

As couples, you do everything with one another. You sleep together; you eat together; you sit in the same car together; you spend your free time together bonding over common interests and activities. Even if all this leaves you disenchanted and unhappy, you go to therapy. Together.

The bathroom is not meant to be experienced together. The toilet is not meant to be confused with a water cooler.

Bathrooms have doors and locks for a reason – and that reason is not so that two people of the opposite sex can bolt themselves inside and be comfortable together.

Whether I’ve been dating someone two days or two years, I lock the bathroom door, and I think that’s normal. You are welcome to knock and ask me, ”Can I come in?” but  I will probably tell you that I am almost done before finishing up, opening the door, walking past you in a highly annoyed state of mind, and shaking my head disapprovingly when you’re not looking.

Then, an hour later, when I need to call my friend Worm, I’ll steal your phone from your ear, effectively interrupting your own personal call. When you look at me oddly, and ask me what I’m doing, I’ll say:

“I need to do my business so I thought we could use your cell phone at the same time.”

I’ll ask you why you have to be so weird about things, why you don’t want to be close, and why you don’t love me.

Then I will cry and eat a pan of brownies.

Two months after being traded from the Toronto Raptors to the New Jersey Nets, a happier Vince Carter lashed out at his former self Wednesday. Carter, who’s rejuvenated his career with the Nets, is a visibly different player since the trade, putting up much better numbers and playing with greater intensity and energy. “I’m glad to be gone, I really am. I was miserable playing as myself,” said Carter. “I totally dogged it, and made sure everyone in Toronto knew I wanted out. I didn’t play hard or score much either. Now that things are good again, I look back and wonder how I managed to play in that environment day in and day out, as depressing as I made it.”

Carter, who’s averaging 26 points a game with the Nets—11 more than he averaged with the Raptors this year, said he’s much happier playing as a version of himself who cares. “Back in Toronto, I had a loser’s mentality and I didn’t get along with myself. Plus, my chemistry with myself was horrible,” said Carter.” I guess it just didn’t seem like I cared. I mean, I wasn’t dedicated to the team and I sat out games with injuries I could have played with. Really, I have to question if my heart was ever in it. It’s just good to be playing somewhere where I care. I can’t begin to explain to you how good it feels to be playing as my present self.”

ORIGINALY PUBLISHED ON MARCH 10, 2005 IN VOLUME 3 ISSUE 9

Rodney Dishwell, a 28-year-old heroin addict from New York, was designated for rehab assignment at AA Trenton this week. Dishwell, who’s been a junkie for close to five years, admits it’s going to be hard to leave the streets, but said being confined to a baseball stadium might help him turn his life around. “It’s going to be weird lying in the grass instead of the gutter, but my sponsor thinks this will be good for me,” said Dishwell. “Coach said that if I do well enough here, he’ll move him up to AAA Columbus by the end of year.”

Trenton Thunderbirds manager Stump Merrill says he’s excited to see that Dishwell is trying to make a change, but is worried he’ll go through withdrawal. “This is kind of a unique situation because most of the guys who get sent here are pitchers recovering from arm surgery or guys who broke a leg, but Rodney, well, he’s a little different. He’s got collapsed veins, clammy skin and rotten teeth, so we’re going to monitor him pretty closely,” said Merrill. “He’ll probably crash when the smack starts leaving his body, but we think the sunflower seeds, chewing tobacco and Gatorade will help him get through this. Merrill added that if the team can keep Dishwell away from Stan, a cokehead who works in concessions, he’ll do just fine.

ORIGINALY PUBLISHED ON MARCH 31, 2005 IN VOLUME 3 ISSUE 11

I saw Audrye Sessions open for Fun and Manchester Orchestra a few weeks back in Houston. Halfway through the band’s set, I turned to a fellow fan:

Me: “They sound a bit like Radiohead.”

Fan: “Maybe, dude, but that’s saying a lot. I mean, they’re good, but fuck.”

Me: “No, I know. But there’s a little resemblance there. Maybe they’re not like Radiohead, but the poor man’s Radiohead.”

Fan: “Maybe, dude, but that’s still saying a lot. I mean, they’re good, but fuck.”

Me: “True. Maybe they’re like the homeless man’s Radiohead.”

Fan: “Sort of.”

Me: ‘What do you mean ‘sort of?’”

Fan: “Well, yeah, generally speaking, they sort of do. But on ‘Turn Me Off’, they do especially, but in a coked-up kind of way. Like Tom Yorke is in a hurry to finish a song.”

Me: “So Audrye Sessions is a coked-up, homeless man’s Radiohead?”

Fan: “Well, yeah.”

Me: “Is that good?”

Fan: “Good? That’s great.”

Minnesota Timberwolves point guard Sam Cassell responded to critics’ claims that he’s a cancer to the team Monday by arguing that he’s really more like the chronic disease diabetes. “I hate to nitpick, but cancer is any malignant growth or tumor caused by abnormal cell division. Instead of maturing normally and dying, cancerous cells reproduce without restraint. Frequently, death occurs” said Cassell. “While it’s true I am certainly abnormal looking and I haven’t matured since I came into the league, there’s no way I played without restraint because I was nursing an injury most of the year. I guess you could say I hurt the Timberwolves, but I don’t think I killed them.”

Cassell did admit that he understands why some people would compare the one-time all-star to diabetes. “With diabetes, your body doesn’t produce enough insulin, which is a hormone that is necessary to convert food into energy. Well, same with me. I didn’t produce enough assists this year, which are necessary to convert fast breaks into points.” Cassell added that the Timberwolves still could have made the playoffs had Latrell Sprewell not been such a Hermanski-Pudlak Syndrome.

ORIGINALY PUBLISHED ON APRL 21, 2005 IN VOLUME 3 ISSUE 13