GREAT MOMENTS IN NIPPLE HISTORY, VOLUME 1: An inspired commercial. I'd like to see them apply the same creative treatment to the opposite sex, but that's just me.

OFF TO A GREAT START: I walk out to my car this morning and...EGGED! It was friggin' egged last night! Meanwhile it's 6:30AM, and if I don't get my ass (in my car) onto the Edens I'm looking at an ungodly long commute. Fine. So I pilot the Eggmobile onto the highway and roll out to Northbrook, jammin' high-powered, pissed-off rap tunes all the way. I find a self-service car wash, feed a buck-fifty into the slot, and start scrubbin' like a madman. Damn egg is tough to get off. So I'm sudsin' and scrubbin' and I hear beepin'. Huh? I'm out of quarters, and the timer says I'm gonna be out of water pressure in 30 seconds. I utter a profanity, yes, then switch the dial from soap to water and run around the car like a moron, spraying water all over the vehicle and myself. I get most of the soap off, but I'm a bit wet and a lot pissed. I cruise over to Starbucks and order my standard double-tall soy latte, then head for the office. Still adrenalized from the morning's events, I swing the car in a fast, angry arc around the parking lot. Splash! My coffee leaps from the cupholder into my lap, the lid comes off, and I find myself sitting in a bath of hot liquid. My pants are soaked, front and back, and my crotch smells like Costa Rica. So far, so bad.

OSCAR THE GREAT: I'm not sure why, but I've always loved boxing. And Oscar De La Hoya is hands-down one of the three or four most talented boxers I've seen in my life. (Roy Jones Jr., Sugar Ray Leonard, and Muhammad Ali are three that immediately come to mind ahead of Oscar.) Am I the only one that thinks that, save for some faulty decisions, the man is undefeated? I think he's gonna batter Sugar Shane in the rubber match.

GHOSTING ORLANDO: I love "boy bands" like NSYNC and the Backstreets. Seriously. They've usually got ace songwriters and absolute studio wizards behind 'em, so you're almost guaranteed to get an A-list melody and production to rival Steely Dan. Where they fall short is usually in the lyrics department. Schlock city, right? The other day the perfect boy-band anthem came to me, cheesy as all hell and full of teen themes. I don't know what else to do with it, so I post it here:

"INTERNALISTICALLY"
I may not be beautiful
but I'm still waiting for you to fall
right down here in love with me
in spite of what you see

I may not be a winner on the outside
But I will cook dinner if you're my bride
Yes, I'm willing to swallow my pride
If you would let me take your body for a ride

There's so much more to me
than the stuff that you can see
Take a look inside, honey
I'm beautiful...
internalistically.

SMOKING SIGN: Again, God knows who I'll vote for or whether I skew farther Right or Left on the political spectrum. But this back-and-forth over the "Mission Accomplished" banner is such B.S. I can't stand it. Who cares who put the banner up? And hell, when you liberate a country and boot a bully into hiding, I'd say you're entitled to some small self-congratulatory banner.

TWIN ALBATROSSES: There's an "e-mail forward" making the rounds outlining all of Bush's shortcomings as a man and as a president. As I sit here vacillating over how I'll vote in the next election, I enjoy playing devil's advocate for both parties, and so I admit I read this latest anti-Bush screed with the same basic interest that I've given to Andrew Sullivan's ongoing analysis of the Dems. Along with the usual criticisms -- you know, Shrubya is a free-spending, war-mongering mental midget -- there's also an additional bullet point that jumped off the page at me: Despite his vows to bring Osama and Saddam to justice, both are still wandering the earth lookin' for trouble. (I'm paraphrasing.) Not a revelation, right? So why did that factoid spark my interest? Because it's going to have amazing visual heft as the election nears. Imagine an ad where Bush says he's gonna get those guys, that it's only a matter of time. And then imagine cutting to video of the two men laughing, enjoying themselves, making threats against Americans. Their ongoing lives and liberties may be 43's greatest negative as we near this next election.

BIG BABIES: Shaq and Kobe are squabbling again.

YOU VILL BE PRESIDENT! No big whoop, but I find it odd that the "reformed" Govinator paid such a high-profile visit to Mr. Steroid 2003. Are we done pretending we care? I don't mind if Arnold or Ronnie Coleman or whoever wants to gulp steroids 24/7, but why not just come clean about it. Professional bodybuilding is built on steroids, plain and simple. You can't look like Coleman -- or Arnold -- without 'em.

GO FISH: It's the Yankees and the Marlins, eh? So who will I root for, the perennial champs or those pesky fish that dashed my dreams?

Fish all the way, baby.

Unlike the Atlanta series, where my dislike for the Braves grew with each smirky at-bat, the Marlins series actually had the opposite effect. By the time Pudge Rodriguez knocked in his 73rd RBI I had actually grown to like him. C'mon, who doesn't love a stocky, bossy catcher who legs out every hit and comes through in the clutch? I'd take him on the Cubs in a minute. Granted, Miller and Bako seem like nice, sturdy guys, and they sure did a nice job of gunning down scampering opponents this season. But let's face it, they barely hit a lick between 'em, and there were times I was actually hoping they'd walk so some of our hot-hitting pitchers could have a whack or two.

The rest of the Marlins? Josh Beckett is a humble talent with a bad beard, not unlike a certain Cub who I've grown fond of. Conine seems like a solid, happy dude, the perfect guy to take a fishing trip with. Lowell is dark and scary, like a guy haunted by a bad accident, but he's also a fearsome competitor and a soft-spoken dude. Very likeable. McKeon? Who doesn't love the too-old manager, doddering his way into history? And those pesky fast guys, Castillo and the French-Hispanic black guy Juan Pierre? Love 'em. Speed thrills, baby. Now if they can just teach Pierre to get an actual jump. He's the fastest unsuccessful base-stealer I've ever seen.

Why not root for the Yankees?

I have no affection for New York or New Yorkers, truth be told. Sure, I have friends there. But I pretend they live elsewhere, that they're only visiting the Big Crapper. Plus it's no fun to root for the favorite. I'm almost glad my Red Wings were swept out last year. There's nothing like a team with a chip on its shoulder. That's why I'm rooting for the Marlins to win their second Series...

...and why I'll be cheering harder for the Cubs next year than ever before.

HI: I haven't been blogging because:

I started a full-time job at this company.

I've been too excited about the Cubs.

I've been too miserable about the Cubs.

I was traveling.

I tend to do things a lot for a while, but then get sick of them.

Just because. So mind your own beeswax.

Anyhoo, there's a lot to cover. right? I mean, it's been two weeks since last I wrote, and even then things had started to slide around here.

Trouble is, it feels like some of these recent events deserve long essays, or at least well-considered sentences strung together into coherent paragraphs.

But since most of my readers are here because of searches on "Rudi Bakhtiar nude" and "Paige Davis nipples," well, how bad should I feel? By now, most of my real readers have gone elsewhere, have found other mad diarists with whom to wile away their meager discretionary moments.

Well, as LL Cool J once opined, "Don't call it a comeback." Yeah, I'm gonna try and spread more thoughts on this fallow ground, like so much cerebral fertilizer. (Pee-yoo.) Look for more posting later today, tomorrow, and in the days between and beyond this one.

BITCHSLAPPED BY THE MAC: A gossip hack baits the SuperBrat and gets what she wants.

NO HE DIDDY! As P. Diddy announces his plan to run the upcoming NY marathon -- with an abbreviated training schedule no less -- I'm reminded of other similar lame-brained stunts. Confused pugilist Riddick Bowe once joined the Marines, only to leave a week or so into boot camp. And recently deceased rock god Joe Strummer reportedly ran the Paris Marathon while on the lam from his label.

Judging by a NEW YORKER profile of the Did-ster I read sometime last year, he'll have to cut down on his alcohol intake and amp up the water if he plans to actually finish. Nonetheless, since this stunt is all about charity (and not even the least bit about free pub), here's hoping Sean bling-blings his way across the finish line.

LINE OF THE DAY: "Maybe I am a retard and everyone else is normal."
- Mike Mihaly, former general manager of Trans World Skateboarding, analyzing his recent business travails