Now I can see some crazy psycho-partum woman trying to buy a baby with a car. But who buys a car with a baby? And a used Intrepid at that? And more confusingly, who accepts a baby as legal tender? I’d be happy enough just to get rid of the Intrepid for free.

Normally I wouldn’t do this. Because the truth is, normally, I don’t care. Shit rolls off me like a 100-year-old cast iron skillet at this point. Plus, as much I’m constantly tempted to, I tend to not hang other people’s garbage out. But this really blew me away. Only I could get bitchslapped by a girl I haven’t seen in 12 years for something she did and I’m pretty sure neither one of us cares about at all. Clearly she shouldn’t care, and apparently I’m incapable, so the whole thing is pretty flabbergasting.

Here’s the short version:

I get a new CD. It’s very good. It has a track with Elvis Costello. It’s very good. I remember how much she likes Elvis Costello. I remember this partly from the experience of her leaving me in a parking lot for 90 minutes while she went backstage to hang out with him. Anyhoo, I send her the track, as it’s a semi-obscure new album she may not have heard about, trying to be nice. She says she doesn’t like Elvis anymore, now she likes John Mayer. Kind of wierd, but whatever. Maybe she’s kidding. I don’t know. I mention I know a guy who knows him, maybe I can hook them up. Then I may have poked the bear a little, and said something to the effect that I should warn him because she’ll eventually stomp on his heart and cheat on him with James Blunt. Which, while being inherently funny, still managed to start a torrent of crap from a suburban mother of two.

Seriously, who thinks dumping the person who thinks they’re going to marry you actually ingratiates them to you? And literally in the same conversation they’re telling you they don’t want to see you again, asks your advice about the guy they really like? And then 12 years later has the revisionist history balls to act like everything’s cool? And then go ape-shit Oprah on you when you call them on it? ON E-MAIL?

The upside of dating a girl with low self-esteem is you get to be with someone who’s a solid 2 or 3 clicks out of your league and normally wouldn’t give you the time of day. The down side is you put all this effort into making them feel good about themselves, and then, as a result of all your nurturing and caring and generally not being the kind of abusive dick boyfriend that caused their low self-esteem in the first place, one day they wake up and realize they’re not worthless dumbasses and they can do a lot better (though interestingly it’s now recalled as offering no support, and belittling everything she cared about). It’s a transformation I like to call ‘bittersweet.’ And I get it. Believe me. It’s the circle of life. Hakuna Matata. I certainly don’t (and I use the quotes judiciously) “cry a river about the one that got away.” Not anymore, anyway.

Maybe she didn’t technically cheat on me. I don’t know. The things she did and said at the time led me to believe otherwise. And people told me she did, so there’s that. But who says, “For the record, I never cheated on you.”???

Bill Fucking Clinton, that’s who.

And as for “not being able to commit”? Well, the nice lady at the returns counter at Service Merchandise may not agree.

“So much for trying to just remember the fun that we did actually have.” Good. Those are MY memories. You don’t get those. The 12 months of nausea and constant thoughts of suicide after you left? You can have those. I don’t have any use for them anymore. Maybe then I’ll remember the fun.

But I can say this with 100% certainty – you’re half right – while it was in fact a colossal waste of time, energy, the little money I had back then, and everything else I was stupid enough to invest in personal relationships for me, it was obviously not a waste of time for you. Enjoy your ego. We’ve earned it.

And “for the record”, I don’t “hate everyone around me.” Though I’m often surprised I don’t. And I don’t hate you. I’m not even pissed at you. I’m actually happy you got what you wanted out of life. Like I said, Hakuna Matata.

Sounds like a song. I’ll be sure to pass that along to John Mayer.

Study: Vanity on the rise among college students.

While you’re prepping your panties to be torn off and hurled at Justin Timberlake on his current tour, but feel yourself drying up as a voice tells you that the show is brought to you by Dell, now you know who to blame.

While recording, the producer actually told me I sounded too sexy. If that’s possible.

This movie tagline killed in testing.

Though to be fair, I’d probably only get in trouble in my neighborhood if I was watching a movie about flushing crack down the toilet really loud.

I’m sure you’ve seen the above video – it’s been screaming through the intertubes for a week or so, but the interesting coda is that Rogan’s agent is also Mencia’s agent, and Joe has now been dropped for stirring up this particular hornet’s nest. You can read Joe’s take on it in his own words.

It was burned in a barrel.

Because you really get to the heart of what the common folk care about with the big issues.

Watch a movie all about a seldom used typeface called Helvetica.

How can you not click on a Dear Abby like that?

Hate standing in a three hour line for a Mac Genius to show you how to reboot your iPod? No problem.

Don’t know Photoshop? No problem.

To protect and service your hair and blouse.

The NFL says you can’t watch their championship game on a television that’s bigger than 55 inches. Or pulling for the Saints.