I'm so glad that we're on Orange Alert status now. I am more vigilant than ever. Why, just this morning, as I walked by a group of men standing around talking, I addressed them, saying "Say, you chaps aren't terrorists, are you?"

They assured me they weren't.

So, Monday, on my way in to work, I placed a hot thermos of coffee between my legs and then spilled it on my crotch. At first, I was upset, because it was a pretty predictable turn of events, and I like to keep things original. Then I was upset because it made me realize that I was going to spend my day explaining to everyone that I hadn't urinated on myself.

Luckily, going 75 mph with all the windows down makes an amazingly good improvised dry cleaner.

I only rememeber this because I grabbed my crotch in front of Andy Dick today.

He had a wet spot on his sweater above his right nipple. He told me he was lactating. I decided to share my coffee-crotch experience with him.

We had a laugh. We bonded. He got off on the second floor.

I am very nearly making myself ill with the 'celebrity chat of the day' updates. I will ween myself from them eventually. I am enjoying the novelty right now, though.

Especially when it provides a good reason to tie itself in with a crotch spill anecdote.