It amazes me how much beef jerky reminds me of the scabs I have on my leg right now.

As I was buying shampoo and body wash, I had a marvelous lesson in marketing.

See, as a guy, I felt overwhelmed in the aisles and aisles of cleansing products, most of which are designed for women. I felt female even looking at the stuff. I could totally feel the eyes of all other patrons drilling the back of my neck with the thought, "Is he seriously looking at girl products?"

So, as a manly male, whenever I found a product that said "For Men" on it, I would immediately pick it up and read the label. It sure made me feel less like a woman.

It got me thinking. I have no problem using female products. But when it comes to buying them, I just chicken out.

So my realization came in the fact that even though I was willing to use anything, I was severely limited in what I could purchase. Solution? Create a brand called "For Men," selling all sorts of girly products cleverly hidden as manly objects.

"Oh look, I really need some motor oil... for normal to dry hair. A cleaver... that trims my cuticles!"

Seriously, somebody do it. You'll make millions. Just remember to share it with me.

Three firemen just walked into our room to test the smoke detector. One of them saw my hammock and asked, "Does that work?"

Now, being shocked by this question, my tone of voice was probably not what it should have been. I believe I asked, "How does a hammock not work?"

He went on to explain that it could fall or hit the refrigerator beneath it, etc.

I was surprised by his logic. Why on earth would I keep a hammock in my room that doesn't work? Would it make any sense to keep this thing in the way of my desk if I couldn't even sit in it comfortably?

I was a little disturbed by his question and logic.

It's my goal here at Davis to see a biker riding without his hands, reading a book.

Furthermore, it's my goal in life to be that biker.

A while ago, I was going to my professor's office hours, located on the 8th floor of Sproul Hall. As apparently is customary in this building, I took the elevator. I have seen perfectly able people take the elevator to the second floor. Take into account that there are two staircases actually closer to both entrances of the building.

On this particular visit, I entered the elevator with one other person. Something was different about it.

I had been to this professor's office hours before, so I knew the elevator walls were not supposed to be covered with black paper. I also knew that there should be light when the doors closed. Instead, there was more black paper on the ceiling.

But the part that really got me was the audio they piped in. Among loud banging and whirring noises were the voices of men, presumably construction workers. In their conversations, you could tell they were unsure of the safety involved with building the thing.

The entire idea was to put the rider in the dark, sensing that there were men working on the elevator and it wasn't safe. Really uplifting.

I turned to the other man in the car with me.

"Art project," he said.

"Ah."

I wonder why they had to do this to the poor departments of Classics, Foreign Language, and Religious Studies.

After dropping him off, the doors closed, leaving me alone. I arrived at my floor and stepped out of the elevator, thus ending the creepiest elevator ride of my life.