He came from a small Michigan town and turned Hollywood upside down. From the moment actor/comedian Skyler Stone arrived in Los Angeles, people stopped and took notice. Never one to fit in with the crowd, being an outcast has become Stone's greatest asset. It is what separates him from the rest.

Grabbing the bull by the horns, Stone did not wait for Hollywood to open its doors, he opened them himself. Having begun his career by working on several of his own short films, stand-up routines, and various other forms of entertainment, Stone eventually landed a nationwide Blockbuster commercial promoting "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." From there, the aspiring Hollywooder continued to push forward with his own projects. Refusing to wait for a job to fall into his lap, he worked diligently on his own. One of his many self-created projects included pulling pranks on folks living in Los Angeles. With a videotape in hand, Stone and his entourage cruise the streets looking for the next big con to pull on big businesses.

With great footage, sharp concepts, and gutsy stunts, Stone was able to sell his concept to Comedy Central. Thus, his career officially took off with a show called "Con." Tossing boundaries out the window, Stone was hired to continue being his goofy self, pranking people and having fun. Hence, the birth of Comedy Central's biggest lawsuit-provoking series ever.

Five years ago, before his career skyrocketed, I first met Stone whe n he moved into my apartment building. One day as I sat outside on the balcony, this vibrant, highly enthusiastic guy walks by with his hair in wild, funky braids. He was wearing a yellow "mad-scientist-looking" jumpsuit. Talk about a recreation of a young Albert Einstein... this kid was definitely outrageous. When he noticed me staring at him, he smiled and waved.

"Hey there!" said Stone. "Like my outfit? I'm dressed to go to Sundance."

Since our first encounter, I watched Stone succeed in the most bizarre ways. If you have never seen "Con," Stone pulls stunts on some big corporations including Subway and a major league baseball team, which actually did not make the show due to threats of multi-million dollar lawsuits.

What did make it on "Con" was an episode where Stone pretends to be homeless and gets a free makeover at a ritzy hair salon. He also gets his buddy's apartment clean by Maxim models who think they are posing for a photo shoot. No joke - they cleaned the entire pad! In his cheesiest outfit, Stone snaps shots with an unloaded camera as a beautiful woman he personally cast, scrubbed floors and washed windows. And need I remind you of the "porn episode" where Stone poses as an adult entertainment director. During the shoot, Stone proceeds to tell his "actors" to keep their clothes on for this "family-friendly" porn movie. In celebration of his dirty directorial debut, he invites real porn pros including famous adult filmmakers to view his latest piece of " art."

When asked how he came up with the television show "Con," Stone replied, "I have been doing it all my life to get by.

"Whenever I wanted something that society deemed I could not have, I would turn around and disagree by showing them that I can indeed have it."

Following the show "Con," Stone continued doing what he does best, creating his own material. With the help of writers/actors Zach Johnson, Matt Moore, Greg Studley, Matt Peek, and Alanna Ubach ("The Fockers"), Stone made a sketch show called "Velcro." Hilariously wacky, Stone and crew act in short skits that poke fun of Hollywood's top players such as Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise and many more, (which are airing on "Acted By").

Along with his long list of credentials, such as his performances in a comedic film called "Accepted," "Waiting," "For Your Consideration," and having landed the lead role, Quinn, a twenty-something year old slacker still living with his pop (Danny DeVito) in a soon-to-be released film called "House Broken," Stone continues to reach higher plateaus in Hollywood.

Although Stone's outlook on life can be a tad outrageous, he is one dreamer who is actually living out his dream and will continue to do so, indefinitely. Stone does what every parent tells you not to do. He has proven that you can be yourself and still get what you want.

"Life is short," says Stone, "and no one has a right to dictate how we live, feel, think and act."

Are you ready to laugh out loud? Do you need a break from the hectic daily work life? If so, you will want to get your hands on a pair of Dave Attell tickets so that you can be sure to make an appearance at one of his next shows. Attell is an American stand-up comedian who is also the host of Comedy Central's "Insomniac with Dave Attell and The Gong Show. This hilarious performer appears at many different venues throughout the year and he specializes in making people laugh, so you'll want to secure your seat at one of his shows before tickets are all swept up.

Attell is sometimes found to be exceptionally different and bizarre with some of his off-the-wall jokes, but these antics are appreciated by fans who especially enjoy this type of humor. Attell's first appearance on television was in 1988 on VH1's Stand Up Spotlight and it also featured some noted appearances by Lewis Black, Margaret Cho and Jay Mohr. Attell got his big break when he made his official debut on The Late Show with David Letterman. Fans were in hysterics after Attell left the stage and everyone knew that they had a big time star on their hands. Attell has no fear and no reservations about getting up on stage and enticing people to really let loose and laugh. It is perhaps one of his greatest strengths in being a stand up comedian, which is obviously not the easiest job in the world. Dave Attell tickets are certainly hot commodities, especially when he is preparing to perform in a city near you.

Dave Attell has also appeared in two HBO specials over the years and he has performed alongside some of the best in business, like Dave Chappelle, Louis C.K. and Anthony Clark. Afterwards Dave Attell was guaranteed a regular spot on the The Daily Show, shortly after the departure of Craig Kilborn and the rival of the new host, Jon Stewart. His particular series of commentary on the show was titled The Ugly American and his stint on The Daily Show gave him access to a broader audience, people started taking part in this up and coming funnyman.

Seeing a great live bit of comedy is a perfect cure for a gloomy day or depressed moods. Dave Attell offers up some of the best comedy in the business and you will surely be impressed with his crazy antics and his ability to appear completely at ease on the stage. Don't underestimate the power of comedy, especially when it comes from the mouth of Dave Attell. Jump on the fan bandwagon and get your own pair of Dave Attell tickets today!

I tried to kill my husband once ("Only once?" you say). He wasn't my husband yet and to be perfectly honest, I never did actually tell him to put his face over it after lighting the match and dropping it in. But I am getting ahead of myself.

My father worked for the government. He was a quality control engineer overseeing a defense contract with a private sector company that built missiles and missile delivery systems. "Ahhh," you are saying, "Rockets."

During the time that he was working with this particular company, a General, who was my father's immediate superior, had cause to visit Japan. The General knew of my father's love of the art of barbecuing. Dad loved nothing better than a good steak, carefully barbecued, rare and dripping with juices. While in Japan, the General came across a truly awe inspiring hibachi. This was not your garden variety hibachi that you may purchase just about anywhere. I laugh, ha-ha, when I see what passes for a hibachi these days. The General shipped it directly to our house. When it first arrived, we had no idea what it was or what to do with it, but it was attractive. Mom was heard to say, "Okay..." on a rising, questioning note.

A real, honest to goodness, Japanese hibachi is a sight to behold. Standing at about three feet tall, it looked a lot like a giant Chinese ginger jar complete with cap. The outer surface was pebbled and colored a nice dark, peaceful green. The trim was black as was the inside in anticipation; I am sure, of the blackening that would ensue as it was used. The Japanese have always given great thought to the aesthetics of their products.

The base was probably at least two feet in diameter and had a plug that could be adjusted to control the flow of air or remove spent charcoal. At about the two foot high mark, it flared out significantly and there was a seam that created a hinged lid. The lid tapered drastically to a short chimney, with a diameter of maybe six inches, which had a removable cap. So now you are probably saying, "All right already. Enough about the hibachi. Let's get to the killing part." But this is important and you will see why in a moment.

My dad died in August of 1969 and I met my husband-to-be in September of 1970. I tell you this to give you an idea of the era in which this all transpired. It was a more innocent time. Kids, teenagers, didn't know some of the things then that 12 year olds know today. Well, okay, there probably is no way to put a good spin on this.

Sometime during the autumn of 1971, the family was having a barbecue. It was a Saturday. I know this because my grandmother (Dad's mom) was there. She always visited on Saturday. Also present were Bernd (the husband-to-be), my sister (Deb) and mom (Sue), her fiancé (Lew) and me. Some how, it fell to Bernd and me to light the barbecue...excuse me...hibachi.

My father had always done this and it never seemed to bother him. He would stack the charcoal just so, douse it thoroughly with starter fluid and nonchalantly toss in a lit match. Voila! Barbeque. Bernd and I were not nearly so sanguine about the whole thing. Both of us were a bit nervous about the explosive fuel and subsequent fire. Hey, give us a break! We were young and inexperienced.

We had loaded the charcoal and were standing there discussing the best technique for lighting it when Lew opened the sliding glass door and said, "Come on. Light the darn thing already." By that time, we had come up with a plan and implemented it forthwith. The plan was mostly mine which is why I shoulder the blame, but Bernd did agree it sounded good on "paper." We had little practical knowledge of certain principles of physics and were fairly confident in our plan. They say that ignorance is bliss, but I am not so sure. Considering what my father had done for a living, I probably should have known better.

I thoroughly doused the charcoals with starter fluid as I had seen my father do. Bernd slammed down the lid and quickly lit a match. Leaning over the chimney (at six feet and two inches he was well able to lean way over), he dropped it down the chimney. Immediately, there came a massive "whump" followed by a loud "whoosh."

Fortunately for Bernd at this most critical moment in his life, he was quite near-sighted and always wore eyeglasses. This saved his sight, or this story might have had a different beginning.

The "whump" was the sound of the starter fluid vapor exploding and trying to blow the very heavy lid up and open. It failed. If only it had succeeded. The "whoosh" was a lot of hot gas and flame exhausting out of the chimney in a condensed stream. Picture a rocket nozzle. What were we thinking!? Bernd's somewhat longish hair (remember the Hippies of the 60's and early 70's?) was blown back and away from his face. The whole thing was over in a second. He looked at me and I think I may have screamed.

Poor Bernd (I've said before that he is severely beset upon and long suffering for having married me) had instantly acquired a really good imitation of a very bad sunburn. His eyebrows were completely missing as was all his hair for about two inches back from his hairline. In its place was a very foul smelling stubble. The rest of his hair, while still on his head, looked a bit too crispy to survive any kind of hairbrush or comb. When I looked closer, I saw that his eyelashes appeared to have been melted. I turned to look at the sliding glass door and saw Grandma standing there. She was kind enough to open the door just a crack and say to me, "I knew you shouldn't do that." Thank you, Grandma.

We decided he should go home. We thought maybe taking a shower and washing his hair was a good idea. He smelled really bad. We piled into his car, rolled all the windows down and headed across town. My mom, unknown to us, had called his mom and told her what happened. So I was greeted with a very loud and indignant, "You did what to him?" in her lovely German accent. Boy was she upset.

On Monday, Bernd did not go to his classes. Instead, his mom took him to a hair dresser to assess the damage and discuss options. To this day, I don't know why she was so upset that the only course of action was to buzz off the rest of his hair. She had been trying for weeks to get me to talk Bernd into cutting his long hair. I had refused to use my influence in that way. Be careful what you wish for.

The roasted smell left him, eventually, and his hair grew back. He wore it defiantly long for several years after. It took me a long, long time to get over the guilt I felt at blasting him in the face with a rocket motor. We laugh about it now. He has never stopped loving me and he has never stopped doing what I tell him. You'd think he'd know better. He does, however, give it a good think through first.

So, the next time someone says to you that this, that or the other thing is not rocket science, you may safely say, "Yes, but lighting a barbecue is."

My severely beset upon (after all, he married me) and long suffering husband, Bernd, is allergic to mosquitoes. So am I, but not to the extent that he is. Luckily for him, and not so luckily for me, they seem to like me better. But that is beside the point.

For a long time, we thought he was also allergic to cats. But as we found out when we moved to Dewey, Arizona, he is not allergic to cats. The office where he was first employed when we first moved here had a resident cat. No plugged up nose, no sniffles, no hacking and coughing. Turns out he is allergic to fleas. Luckily, there are no fleas above 5,000 feet in elevation where we now live.

When we were both still living in Southern California, erroneously thinking he was allergic to cats, we were still both allergic to mosquitoes. So, one night, just before getting into bed, I spied a mosquito in the bathroom. Thinking selflessly of my husband's extreme allergy to the pesky buggers, I immediately decided that this mosquito had met its end in me.

Unfortunately, being vertically challenged as I am, it was just out of my reach. Your mother always told you not to stand on the toilet. You always thought it was just to keep you from having a little fun. Not so. She meant it.

As I am stepping up on the toilet lid, my hubby who is already in bed says, "Whatcha doin?" I make no reply because I am so focused on killing the pest that I can't talk. This is one woman who is no darn good at multitasking. So the only thing my husband hears is my right hand repeatedly slapping the wall really hard. This noise elicits from him only a quiet, "Sweetie?"

This mosquito is fast. I mean really fast. As fast as I could move my hand, that bug was faster. Now I am starting to get frustrated and a little angry. Why can't the stupid thing co-operate and just give up? After all, I was not going to rest until it was dead. By this point, I had totally forgotten where I was.

Then it landed on the wall somewhat to the right of me. I thought good, I'm right handed and you are toast. I got the mosquito, but at that moment we both became toast.

The toilet lid went left and I went right; straight down between the toilet and the tub. Finally, my husband gets out of bed to see what I am doing. It was probably the dull smacking sound of my head hitting the edge of the tub that roused him. Luckily (I've been saying that a lot), the tub was one of those molded fiberglass models. Even so, it hurt like a son of a...

As he comes into the bathroom, he finds me with my hand clapped over my left eye and saying, "Oh, oh, oh," repeatedly. Now he is really concerned and he is trying desperately to get my hand away from my face.

When I was younger, our next door neighbors had an old Chinese elm tree in their back yard. The trunk was so stout that it took three kids holding hands with their arms straight out at their sides to go around it. Randy, the oldest of three neighbor kids, had tied a five pound horseshoe shaped magnet to a high branch with a thick rope. My sister (younger than me by three years, but a bit more massive) thought it was a grand thing and decided to swing it with all her might so that it would wrap around the tree. She didn't know I was on the other side because she couldn't see me. That magnet came whamming around the tree and hit me squarely in the forehead above my right eye.

I fell over the fence between our back yards and flew into the living room where my parents and grandmother were looking at slides. I had my hand firmly clapped over my right eye and was saying, "Oh, oh, oh," repeatedly. So you can see that I have a history of covering my eyes when it is really my head that has suffered the abuse. They had just as much trouble getting my hand away from my face as my husband did.

When he finally managed to pull my hand away, he sees that there is already a nasty knot forming on my noggin and very politely informs me of this. About this time, I realize that I am going to have to throw up. You might think, no problem, she's right there by the toilet. But I was so well wedged that I could not move. Bernd asks me what he should do. I don't know...should he get ice, should he unwedge me, should he get a bucket...what? Here I am hurting, dizzy and nauseated and he is asking me what he should do. I think I may have lost my mind for a moment at that point.

Somehow, while falling off the toilet, I had twisted my body around so that I was basically on my back with my shoulders stuck between the toilet and the tub. My right leg was at an awkward angle on top of the hamper which was well above head height while lying on the floor. My left leg was bent at the knee and my foot was in the tub. I clamped my mouth firmly shut and made motions to Bernd that thankfully actually communicated my desire to be extricated. Somehow he got me up and I emptied the vile contents of my mouth into the toilet. I then said two words to my husband, "Ice. Now."

I had that knot on my forehead for a couple of weeks and a pretty good black eye, to boot. I had slightly twisted my right ankle and bruised it pretty badly also. My left hip was sore for a while from my leg being wrenched into the tub. Ask me if I still stand on toilet seats and the answer is a resounding, "NO!" I don't stand on swivel chairs, either.

It was fairly embarrassing explaining to those who asked how I had gotten the knot and the black eye. I was tempted to make up some story having to do with Kung Fu practice and a six foot long oak staff...no wait...that really happened. At any rate, I laugh about it now when I remember it. I could have learned the toilet lesson much more expensively. And you thought this article was going to be about mosquito toast. I've always preferred cinnamon.

I recently ran across a contest where ZUG readers where challenged to place fancy stickers that said, "Signed By Author," on copies of Prank The Monkey. The contest had over two hundred people who actually signed up for these strange and unusual contest, which was designed by John Hargrave, but it intrigued me so that I had to discover the results and share them with everyone.

Apparently, the contest was issued to assist John Hargrave, who was the inventor of Prank The Monkey with signing his books so that he would not have to participate in a strenuous world tour. For this strange and unusually contest two hundred contest where each mailed stickers containing the signatures of John Hargrave and the "Signed By Author" stickers as well. The main purpose of this contest was basically for these individuals to go into their local retail book stores, then to secretly attach both stickers to as many copies of Prank The Monkey as possible.

Some of the individuals were really original with there pranks in that they forged fake signatures in many other books, which included signatures of Martha Stewart, Hillary Clinton, Dr. Phil, and God. To win this comical contest the first five individuals that sent in a photograph of a legitimate signed copy of the Prank The Monkey would win. The very first individual that got there photograph in was Gilbert Seise, III.

The other four contestants personalized books with their own unique autographs were Jules Su, Tim Sonderman, Jaron, and Chickens. One contestant winner decided to sign the autograph of Barbara Streisand to Alphabet Of Manliness, which was written by Maddox. Then another signed away the name of Jerry Farewell, but all in all the autographs with in the contest included such famous notaries as Hitler, Reagan, George Bush, and many more.

Other interesting characteristics concerning autographs is that generally it refers to signature of the author of a published document, short story, or novel. Under the United States copyright law autographs can be protected, but not necessarily the names itself. It is said that the writing style of every individual will change throughout their lifespan. With this in mind, an individual who is twenty can write they name on a piece of paper, then exactly ten years later write their name on that same piece of paper again. There will be a slight difference, but then ten years later write their name one more time, and there will be a very noticeable difference between the first signature and the last.

Levels that may affect the signatures of individuals may include the advancement or lack of education, their health, their environment, and even possible society. If an individual suffers from a disease such as Parkinson, which is when the shakes uncontrollably at times, then that individuals autograph will definitely be different from the time prior to developing this disease to present. A very famous actor, Michael J. Fox, unfortunately suffers from this disease as well as famous boxing great, Muhammad Ali.

Well, the dog days of summer are here, but even some dogs don't believe it. I've had several of them come up to me and say, "Hey, what's up with the heat?" I don't know. I don't usually talk about the weather, unless there's nothing else to talk about.

Have you ever been on the phone with someone for a while and all of a sudden they start talking about the weather? That's a sure sign that your conversation is coming to an end. Sometimes it's a blessing, because you really have had enough of hearing about this person's gall bladder operation. So, hearing about how the tornado ripped off their roof, is almost refreshing.

But, it is hot out there and this brought to mind a classic bit of comedy that Johnny Carson, of The Tonight Show fame, used to do. In his opening monologue, he would say something like, "Boy, was it cold today." And the audience would yell out, almost in unison, "How cold was it?" And Johnny would smile, because he knew he got the audience to help him set up his joke. Then he would come up with something like, "It was so cold out, I leaned against my car and broke my pants." Laughter ensued.

So, with that in mind, and in honor of a comedy legend, here are ten responses Johnny might have answered to the audience if he had said, "Boy, is it hot out there." And the audience would respond with, "How hot is it?" Johnny would then say, "Why, it's so hot...

1. Not only can you fry an egg on the sidewalk, but you can toast the English muffin, too.

2. Your Odor Eaters have sent up a white flag.

3. Amy Winehouse was seen drinking antifreeze.

4. The greyhound, on the side of the bus, is carrying a bottle of Gatorade.

5. At the beach, you can get sunburned underwater.

6. The onion rings you have under your arm aren't from Burger King.

7. Fire ants are carrying personal fans.

8. Your GPS keeps directing you to drive to Canada.

9. A-Rod has dropped his crush on Madonna and started dating the Good Humor man.

10. The hardware store is selling thermometers with readings of Fahrenheit, Celsius and Holy Crap!"

No matter how you spell it, the heat is on (Glen Frey 1985). So, thank you, Johnny, for all the laughs. You are dearly missed.

One summer day, my father decided it was time to take a look at some projects around the house that he had been putting off for a long while. That was his first mistake. Ever since I could remember our small add-on garage had always stood open to the outside. The reason our garage was open related directly to how the garage doors were hung. Instead of the more common vertical lift design, our garage doors folded open and closed along a horizontal track at the top of the doors.

When the doors were completely open, they folded up tightly on the left and right side of the garage walls. At some point, perhaps before my family even moved into this house, something had gone wrong with the way these horizontal doors slid along their track to accomplish a smooth closure of the garage. Since the doors kept falling off the track or getting stuck partly closed, my parents had decided to leave the doors open all the time. On this fateful day, my father decided to do battle with our garage doors, and he was in no mood to accept defeat.

After several painstaking hours of fighting with the precarious mechanism and working to hang the garage doors properly on their rusty track, my dad performed his final tests to make sure his repairs were sturdy and smooth enough to allow the garage doors to open and close properly once again. Following years of going without being able to close the garage, we were back to normal again, and my dad was quietly and thoroughly proud of himself for completing the hard work without having to buy new doors. My dad felt so good about this accomplishment, he decided to get started on his next project. I cannot remember exactly what he went to work on next, but it might have been along the lines of getting one of our ancient lawn mowers running again without stalling when it encountered a sturdy clump of grass.

Meanwhile, my mother decided to take me and two of my brothers for a ride in the car. Again, I do not remember exactly where we were planning to go, but I do recall that as we prepared to get going, we were stirred up to a pretty good frenzy of excitement about the trip. As my mother fired up the Chevrolet and started backing out of the garage, she did not hear my younger brother telling her that he needed to make sure his car door was shut. My brother opened the car door, which caught on the newly hung garage door, and collided with a loud crashing sound as the garage door was ripped off its track.

Mother reacted as quickly as she could, stopping the car, and pulling forward slightly to dislodge the car door. She knew immediately what had happened, and got busy telling my brother to be more careful about opening the car door when the car was in motion. At that moment, my dad appeared in the driveway to see what was going on. As my mom looked over what damage might have happened to the car door, my dad caught sight of what my brother had done to fix the redone garage door. Dad tossed the hammer he had in his right hand over his shoulder, and slapped his forehead with his left hand.

With a look of total disbelief and frustration on his face, all my dad could say to my mother was, "I just got through fixing that door."

Both my parents knew the destructive power of their children was unintentional. As my mother got back into the car and pulled carefully out into the driveway, I can still remember the look of resignation on my dad's face as he lifted the broken door, and leaned it up against the garage wall.

What Ever Happened to all those great stand up comics working clubs in the 80's and 90's?

If you are old enough to remember the comedy boom of the 80's and 90's you remember some great comics as well. The comedy boom for those of you that don't know was a time when comedy clubs exploded in popularity. Prior to that time comedy clubs were found in big cities like New York and LA.

When the comedy boom hit cities that never had a club suddenly had a number of them. At one point Phoenix had seven clubs and the city was much smaller than it is today. Even small towns had one nighters in hotels and bars that were packing in crowds.

Pushed by cable television shows like "An Evening at the Improv" and others a five minute set could propel an unknown comic to headliner status in a matter of days. The comedy clubs were packed with laughing paying crowds offering hedge amounts of stage time for the comics to develop there skills.

Today we enjoy the talents of those that developed there comic skills during this time like Tim Allen, Ellen, and Jay Leno to name just a few. Most all of the sitcoms we enjoy today are the result of creative process started back in these times.

While today there are not nearly as many comedy clubs, the ones that are open have the a great pool of talent to choose from. Many of the great headliners that we not lucky enough to hit it big have continued to perform and hone there skills on stage. The quality of the talent for a good comedy club has never been better and the comedy fan has a great opportunity of seeing a polished and professional act.

The sad part of show business is talent is not the one thing that determines weather some becomes famous or not. In many cases the less talented got lucky or was in the right place at the right time or just had the right look.

We call this group of talented comics that have become stars rather than major stars funnier than famous. The nice thing for the comedy fan is they can still go see them at a great price at the local comedy club.

This is not to take away from the accomplishments of those that did become supper stars. We are fortunate they did. We just want to let you know about the other gifted comics still pounding the road working the comedy club stage and hope that some of them soon get the shot to step to the next level. In the mean time if you get the chance to see them, go do it they are well worth the cover charge.

No coffee? How can there be no coffee? This is horrendous, atrocious; this goes against all that is humanity. We are in what is considered a civilized culture. How can there be no coffee? Coffee is my love, my water, my oxygen, my black liquid of greatness. Without coffee I begin to act like a flea that's been covered in makeup. I don't even make sense anymore. Coffee is one of the greatest things in the universe.

Every second that I go without coffee I slowly stop breathing. My life comes to a complete standstill. People move all around me as I continue to glance at my hand, it cupped around empty air in the shape of a coffee mug. Anyone who has gone without a loved one: a favorite pet, a parent or a sister knows this feeling that is beginning to creep into my backbone. I am contemplating so many horrible things that I could do to get coffee. Most beyond what the average person believes to be the line.

They say that god created human beings in his image so God's very image is reflected back to us every time we glance down into a coffee mug. You are right this second denying me my church. This is a stain on this thing we call a human race. A workplace without coffee is equal to not providing oxygen, or bathroom breaks. Only bad things could possibly come from this lack of coffee.

Coffee has been a morning ritual in my life since I was only a child. As a baby my mother drank coffee which made its way into her womb and eventually me. Without my coffee I cease to work as a viable member of society. I become a mad person. Personal hygiene and manners go out the window. They only exist in a universe where someone can get a simple cup of coffee!

I can never trust anyone again. I have been denied my coffee.

This essay by its very nature couldn't possibly be an essay. I've studied this, researched it to the wee hours of the morning and my conclusion is always the same. It just doesn't work. An essay must tell the truth, it simply must be honest and show both sides of whatever it happens to be arguing. The problem here is that there is only one side on this argument. So by saying that this isn't an essay it would have to be lying for it to be one, therefore it is not one. Though if it is not one then it can lie and say that it isn't one, which makes it one.

Its a logic circle that you can never find a hole out of, so let's take a look at a few other things that makes an essay. I will draw my information from my English classes in high school and go from there. First an essay must sound smart. This is always what got me marks back in high school. Being confused does not sound smart; therefore this is not an essay. Next the essay must not have a single spelling error or grammatical mistake. I have intentionally made mistakes in this one and don't have any plans to fix them. Therefore not an essay. Lastly it must have an interesting topic to argue. As you can see, this one isn't interesting at all. This tells me that this is without a doubt not an essay.

I know some people are going to say that it doesn't have to follow the rules set by high school teachers and that essays could be freeform. I intend to hit these people with tennis balls until they shut up. This is because I have nothing better to go on and I refuse to do any more research. So let's continue my list from high school.

An essay must be 5 paragraphs long and only 5 paragraphs. It must start with a thesis and end with a conclusion, the middle paragraphs must support the thesis. I intend to make this "written work" 6 paragraphs just because I can, and the last paragraph will have nothing to do with the first, therefore it will not be a conclusion. This is NOT an essay. People are reading over my shoulder, telling me that this is a pretty funny essay, I've flicked each one in the ear. This cannot be an essay. Essays are boring, filled with long words that no one knows the meaning of and make you sleepy as you read them. This "written work" contains none of these characteristics. Some might go as far to say that this essay is entertaining...THIS IS NOT A ESSAY!

In conclusion...wait a second; I thought I said I would write 6 paragraphs.... This is not an essay and I stand by that. I have included spelling errors, almost didn't follow the paragraph format, the simple logic says that this essay, is not an essay.