I know what you think about me.

You think, “Oh, that Rory – he’s just too cool for school. He probably hangs with the hot supermodels on the weekends and flies in his private jet to Miami to wear cool shorts and snort coke off the breasts of night-women while riding his flaming motorcycle off a ramp at three-hundred miles an hour and then looping it around the sun at warp ten to go back in time and save the whales before ending the night at a disco for a maximum dance party. Rory’s so cool.”

First off, yes, that is what you were thinking, so shut up.

Second, you couldn’t be wronger (actually, you could be, but let’s not split hairs).

The truth is that I work my ass off for weeks at a time and then decompress with mindless activities as soon as I’ve got some breathing room. The easiest way to decompress is to do something which requires absolutely zero brain-power. The perfect activity for this, I’ve discovered, is to watch Stargate SG-1.

It’s one of the dumbest shows ever made, but still somehow very appealing. I can shut off, stare at the screen, and lose myself in its many facets of lameness. I’m addicted to the suck.

However, I recently ran out of Stargate SG-1 and had to go to the store to buy more. The store where I get my SG-1 is inside a mall where there are sometimes members of the opposite sex who are not unattractive. Although I’m not currently looking for a mate, I still don’t want to appear completely retarded by carrying around a Stargate SG-1 box, so I usually take the box, wrap it in several plastic bags, and then bury it inside my Sexual-Predator model trenchcoat where it remains hidden until I get home and unwrap my prize.

At the completion of the transaction for my last SG-1 purchase, the girl behind the counter asked me something odd.

“Would you like a bag for that, sir?”

I stared at her in disbelief.

Fuck, yes, I wanted a bag.

If I had to choose between…

1. Walking around in public with a copy of Stargate SG-1

or

2. Eating soup out of Mike Tyson’s sweaty jockstrap

…you can rest assured my choice would be easily made.

OK. Maybe it wouldn’t be easily made, but it would be a really, really tough decision.

Seriously.

Way tough.

I don’t know what that girl was thinking…

(For the record, I did get a bag, although I still didn’t get any action.)