I was sitting on the couch with Shania, watching

I was sitting on the couch with Shania, watching reruns of "Unwrapped" and playing footsies, when she looked into my eyes and said, "Wanna play the Wii?" That's when I knew

that it was over. I couldn't pretend I liked "Man! I Feel Like A Woman" any longer. It was time to man up. "Shania, I have something I've been meaning to tell you," I said.

"enduring this bullshit is like smashing the tip of my penis with a ball-peen hammer -- after I've nailed it to a piece of moldy particle-board."

With everyone in the room unable to run with their legs crossed in sympathy, I knew it was time to begin the operation. I whipped out my flare gun and shot it into the air, and

hit a seagull. It fell to the ground in a smoldering heap. Phillip grabbed the fire hose and began to put out the slowly growing fire. The following morning

vegan bologna sandwich to kill it. Smoke hissed from its Lulu Lemon tank top. The Undead Yoga Mom came at me with botox needles, I had to

move and move quickly. She sprang with inhuman speed, the needles glinting in her pale hands. Her face was completely expressionless. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my

a spool of thread. With cat-like reflexes she hemmed my pants and fixed 4 of my buttons. It was kinda scary having a she-demon tailor, but the suit fit perfectly.

If "skin-tight" is perfectly. Curse those cat-demons. But really, the instincts of a cat and the instincts of a demon? My back was left with more than scratches that night.