I can never understand how people heat up their lunch in the microwaves, then walk away and don't return by the time it's finished. I'm generally starving for lunch and the microwave isn't fast enough for me, so there's no way I'm walking away long enough to miss the beep. What's up with that?

Twice within a week or 10 days I was driving north on the New Jersey Turnpike heading home from the airport or Pennsylvania or somewhere and I spotted a car pulled over in the shoulder. It's a stretch of the Turnpike near the northern end with the marshy meadowlands on either side of the roadway. Both times, a guy was standing on the edge of the tall reeds taking a leak. No more than a mile down the road is a sign for a rest area a mile away. I'd love to see their faces when they see that sign moments after getting back on the road.

I haven't bought a CD in a long time; so long that I'd have to look at my checkbook or credit card statements or something to find out what that last purchase was. Now I want several new releases. It's a good time for new music, I guess.

I once thought there was nothing more annoying than junk mail. Then came e-mail spam. When that seemed among the most annoying things ever, I started getting spam via instant messenger, particularly one popular version that shall remain nameless but has an exclamation point at the end of its name. But what might be just as frustrating is the ongoing guestbook spam. I get so little guestbook entries as it is (I blame you, all of you. Sure, I could write entries more worthy of your input and response, but like the president overlooking the fact that there are no weapons of mass destruction, I choose to ignore that and trudge on). Argh.

Did anyone see how the president had a press conference the other day to discuss all the attacks that continue in Iraq? He was asked if it was premature to have that press conference on the USS Abraham Lincoln back in May where he essentially called the war in Iraq a success. A banner was hung on the ship's tower behind him reading "Mission Accomplished." The president's answer was that the ship's crew put up that banner, that their mission was accomplished. Yesterday, the president's press secretary clarified the remarks by saying that, OK, the White House did provide the banner, but the Navy put it up. Last night, The Daily Show went nuts with that, mocking the president's staff's comments by saying, "Well, we can't be responsible for what the Navy does once we hand the banner over to them," etc. Brilliant, it was.

I have a dish for candy on my desk, which sits in a high-traffic area around the office. I hate it when people complain about the type of candy I have in there. It's free candy, people. If you don't like what's in there, make a contribution yourself. I also get people complaining that I'm going to make them fat or make their dentists rich. But I don't always provide the candy. I get other people now contributing to the candy bowl and not asking for credit. Sometimes they'll just fill it before I get in, and others will walk by and say, "Ooooh!" at the new offering. I need a "This candy provided by ..." sign.

Casey and I discussed Halloween costumes over dinner last night. I don't know if I'd have the time to make what I think would be a kick-ass idea: Duffman, from The Simpsons. Some of our couple-themed costumes included Ben and J. Lo (definitely much tougher for Casey than for me, though she does have that pink diamond replica I got in a press kit), Ashton and Demi (Casey just got a cheap-ass mesh Brawny hat at work which, while not Von Dutch, is slightly cooler, if such a hat can be considered cool �- I contend it can't, no matter who wears it) and Sydney and Jack Bristow (she'd wear a red wig and sleek black clothes and carry my old Nokia around; I'd frost my hair and stick my ears out and carry a pen that prevents surveilance equipment from hearing our conversation for 90 seconds). In a Who's Line Is It Anyway? moment, I thought it'd be cool to go as all of Victor Garber's most notable roles. I'd be a spy daddy, a mayor in a musical Iowa town, the builder of the finest ocean vessel at the bottom of the North Atlantic, and a couple of other characters.

I think Mr. Goodbar is the failed prototypes of Snickers. It's as if they decided that chocolate wasn't enough, so they decided to add things, like peanuts. But that, clearly, sucked, so they moved on from there with the caramel and nougat and so on. This comes up because it's Halloween and some of the more popular candies are those assortment bags from Hershey's that includes mini Hershey bars, Krackel, Mr. Goodbar and Special Dark. Think about it: How many times have you seen a full-size Mr. Goodbar at the front of the CVS by the registers, where they have eight dozen differnet types of candy and gum? That should be some sort of indication. I'll eat the Special Dark before I'll eat Mr. Goodbar, and Hershey's dark chocolate is far inferior to the better ones, like Dove.

I think if you've made it this far through my ramblings, you are to be commended. Sign my guestbook and let me know you made it all the way through.