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June 9, 1995

Why is it that every single time I go to the store I continuously end up in the longest line?

That happens to me, too. I figure it's because God wants me to read the National Enquirer.

You mean the line where the person has 200 double value coupons and then runs out of checks and then she doesn't have enough cash and has to put everything back, and then they discover that she's dating the cashier's ex-husband? That's the line I get in, but it only works when I'm in a hurry. There is a science to picking the right line, I'm sure of it. Sometimes, I try to use strategy. I think, "Hmmm, this line seems like it would be the shortest, and since I'm always wrong, I'll get in the other line." The people in the first line are back on the freeway while I'm still reading about the two-headed baby that both looks like Elvis.

When it rains, am I better off with a hat? Or no hat?

A hat, but if you're bald it doesn't matter.

Bradley, My friend John comes to work and is always wiping his nose on his sleeve. How can I tactfully ask him to stop?

To be the most tactful, I wouldn't say anything. Buy him a box of tissues for his desk. Then the next time he does it, run for a bucket and throw up.

Will I be married? Will I be rich?

What am I? The oracle of Philadelphia?

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