Care for a spot of intercourse, Ms. Moneypenny?

Pictured at the right is my new license plate for my new car.

No, I'm not making this up. No, it's not a vanity. It really does seem to say "Sex-007." If there were ever a guy in the history of guys who should NOT have a "Sex-007" plate, it's me. I'm sure I'll get chuckles on the freeway from those who think I somehow planned this out. ("Wait, THAT'S the guy driving the 'Sex-007-mobile'? Thanks for playing, Mr. Bond, but I don't think so.")

At least it'll be easy to remember.
...

In Hell, they're playing a non-stop Trading Spaces marathon.

GET BEHIND ME, SATAN!

It's all we've watched for days. Trading Spaces. Trading Spaces: Family. Trading Spaces' Greatest Moments. Trading Spaces $100,000 Special. And of course, the Trading Spaces-esque makeover shows that seem to take a cue from the Trading Spaces franchise: Clean Sweep, While You Were Out, What Not To Wear...

TLC has moved into our lives, taken over our home, brainwashed my wife, and I believe it's currently rummaging around in our fridge, hoping to score some leftover pizza.

The madness has to end.

Somewhere, I just know it, there's a Coalition of Husbands Against Trading Spaces. If I'm wrong, well, I'm starting it right now... so join me, men! Register for your C.H.A.T.S. badge today! It's time to say NO to themed rooms, accent walls, faux leather barstool covers, and decorative art prints made from embarrassing photos in our garages! No more Frank or Doug or Vern or Genevieve or Hilda or Ty-the-stud-horse-carpenter! NO MORE Paige-freaking-Davis! It's time to take back our ceiling fans, for God's sake!

Who's with me?!
...

Um, nothing exciting planned for a New Year's Eve bash. Carey has to work tonight anyhow. Another relaxing holiday at home and, man, that suits me fine.

See you in '04.