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Sometimes I wonder why people even talk to me. A girl at work made me explain to her why bowling balls sweat when they get hot, and then she proceeded to laugh very loudly after I told her. Apparently, she finds that concept hilarious, but she wouldn't explain why. I've known her for three years. You'd think she'd know that every conversation with me will involve my work, bowling, or a request for somebody to strip. I'm a dirty old man with no life.
Oh, wait. I'm an AWESOME dirty old man with no life. That explains it.
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No, I am not Batman, and I will not repair your food processor.
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