i have to admit, one of my favorite guilty pleasures is trolling through the missed connections section of craigslist. basically, one of my major goals in life is to be cited in an MC, as the kids call them, but it hasn't really happened yet. it's okay, i'm young, there's plenty of time to meet my real soulmate who maybe spotted me inhaling my lunch at baja fresh last tuesday but was so scared that i'd growl at him for interrputing my precious mexican burrito bowl that he never approached me.

most of the MCs are too dumb to bother with; they're usually along the lines of, "you were the cute girl on the red line metro sometime last week. i forgot to get your number before you got out. some coffee sometime?" good god, there are so many things wrong with this kind of MC. first off: details, details, details. you need to recite the girl's height, distinguishing features (no, "great ass" does not count as a distinguishing feature), and everything the girl was wearing, down to her shoes, and especially her shoes, for if you can describe the kind of shoes a girl was wearing, you will have a ten thousand times better chance of finding who you're looking for. second off, you did not "forget to get her number" before she left. you are a weak pussy boy who cannot even gather the courage up to go talk to a nice-looking girl on the metro who could end up being the love of your life so you probably just went home and jacked off instead and then logged onto craigslist. jerk. seriously, any girl would love it if you just went up to her, introduced yourself, paid her a nice compliment, and asked if you could take her out sometime. if she says no, or has a boyfriend, just smile, say thanks anyways, and life will go on.

anyway, somewhere in all of this lies the point that today i came across what has to be the best MC of all time, because it is a poem, written for a girl at the kabob restaurant moby dick's, and it is awesome. behold:

You walked in wearing a tight gray shirt with red pants.
Your hair, face, and body combine to make you a painfully
attractive creature. Like most men, I tortured myself
with casual glances from a nearby table and left before
your meal was served. I wrote this for you...

Behold the World
A scantily clad woman
Holding up the line
Breathing fire down my chest
Thundering cold up my spine
The image of Her breast
Her heart pressed against mine
Thumping in the dark of
A desperate whine
Losing myself in
Her arching passageways
A burning inferno
Her hypnotic gaze
Trembling before God
My lips without praise
In Her bodily temple
A dead man is raised

hell, this poem is so awesome that i might just respond to this guy even though i'm not the MC because he is clearly a lothario with super magical love poetry powers. how could i resist the line "in her bodily temple/a dead man is raised"? the answer is, i can't.

some of you who know me well may be aware of the fact that i am slightly terrified at the idea of marriage. the thought of picking one person out of 200 trazillion other people to spend eternity with – well, that i can handle. it’s the thought of what life post-marriage would be like; no doubt it’s an existence filled with important decisions about which kind of eggshell-colored venetian blinds look perfect in the living room, or how best to sabotage that one brat in my kid’s second grade class who got first prize at the science fair when CERTAINLY MY CHILD DESERVED IT MOST FOR THE SOLAR-POWERED GARDEN EXPERIMENT THAT I SPENT THREE WEEKS ON FOR GOD'S SAKE. i mean, he. that he spent three weeks on.

yes, i know marriage really means a forever rainbow of love and puppies and deep, emotional life-altering commitment, but when i see married couples my age i think a) hah, who do they think they’re kidding? they can’t possibly be happy, or b) run, run run away now, RUN! and if you think i’m bad, you clearly haven’t mentioned the word marriage in front of tommy, because then you would have seen the huge swaths of nervous hives that his entire body breaks out into and how his left eye develops this little spastic tic. it’s adorable!

so it certainly doesn’t help my situation that today i’ve found yet another reason to avoid marriage for as long as earthly possible: the workplace bridal shower.

on this friday morning, let me bring you some more wacky adventures in the fun and parallel-universe world of the italian legal system...

ROME (Reuters) - A driver who told a parking attendant "You are nobody!" has felt the weight of Italy's legal system, which ruled the seemingly innocuous words constituted slander -- and fined him heavily.

The tiff over a parking space led to Giulio C. being fined 300 euros (200 pounds) plus 500 euros legal costs when a court in the northeast city of Trieste turned down his appeal.

The court ruled the phrase 'you are nobody' "means precisely 'you are a nonentity' and to state that a person is a nonentity is certainly offensive because it is damaging to the dignity of a person."

The decision led celebrated Corriere della Sera commentator Beppe Severgnini to recall in his column on Friday that this was not the first time Italian appeal courts had deliberated on the definition of slander.

Indeed, over the years a sort of "guide to legitimate offence" has been formulated and Severgnini, quoting the courts, gave a few of the more common examples.

"Ball-breaker" is not slander because although "an undoubtedly rude expression it is now in common usage."

"I'll kick your arse" also passes muster because this is a "robust reaction which should be understood in a figurative way."

Under Italian law, the crime of slander is punishable by a maximum fine of 516 euros.