I have a legitimate question:  What type of person buys the mid-octane gas?  In America, we're sold three octane levels of gas at the pump; 87, 89 and 92 (or 91 or 93).  I grew up always buying the 87 because my Dad would say, "It works just as good as the other stuff."  But when I owned my Mercedes, I bought the expensive stuff because it was recommended for such a high-performance engine.  But who buys the mid-level gas and why?

Most everyone purchases the cheap gas because on most engines, you really can't tell the difference.  On my little 2.3 liter Mustang LX that I owned back in college, I did gas experiments.  I checked mileage using 87 octane and 92 octane.  There was practically no difference whether in the summer or winter.  So naturally, I opted for the cheap gas because it was generally 20 cents cheaper per gallon.

I've got an idea for a game show, and only in America, the land of the TV zombies, could this work.  I call it "Old Clothing Roulette."

Contestants would bring clothes to the studio from all years of their adult life, along with their  high school yearbook photos.  Based on those photos and know the other contestant's current age, they would place blind bets on whether or not clothes from certain years would still fit.  The close to today's time, the less the odds on winning.  The older the clothes, the more you could win.

I know this seems to be a recurring motif, but in my younger years, I wasn't too swift.  Oh sure, I had my IQ points and I did well in school, but I was severely lacking in common sense.  There are all sorts of things that I could blame like a late-blooming pubescence or an inferiority complex (and I don't necessarily discount an idiocy gene somewhere in the mix).  I was fine most of the time and upon first meeting me, I could put on a good show.  It was only after you'd known me for a period of time that one of my "blond" moments would happen.

And then the secret would be out.

Seventh grade English I had Mrs. Tibbals.  She was a crotchety older lady, in her mid-fifties, with a disposition that added another twenty years.  She was wheelchair bound most of the time with thinning grayish pepper hair.  She was not a person who seemed entirely happy with the hand life had dealt her but there was one thing you could definitely say about her - she loved teaching.

I was young once, and with youth comes stupidity.  Complete and utter stupidity, especially in your thoughts.  I could usually hide this pretty well as long as I kept my big mouth shut.  But every once in a while, I produced a classic and how I was heard over that size eleven in my mouth, I'll never understand.

It was the night before my first wedding and all my buds were there.  In the greatest American tradition ever created, we all went to a strip club.  My bachelor party was a night to remember, but for all the wrong reasons.

We started out at the house drinking and playing pool.  A normal beginning to a night of nakedness and debauchery, right?