SKITTLE MARINK. A DINK A DINK. SKITTLE MARINK. A DO.

When I returned to work Wednesday, I prepared for the worst and hoped for the best. Long before I got downstairs in the cafeteria, I knew I had to be ready to let the five-cent Skittles go if I really loved them. If it was meant to be, they would come back.

After a deep breath, I approached the vending machine. It was back in complete working order. I typed in F4, pausing for dramatics in between buttons. The message said it all: .05. Victory is ours!

There was only one way to celebrate: I bought a bag. This wasn't the first scare in the greatness that is cheap candy, and it certainly won't be the last. That machine seems to break down quite often and strike fear into us all Eventually, the magic will run out. Until then, the rainbow of fruit flavor reigns supreme.

Though I just bought the last bag, and there are Zero bars now in that slot. Boo!

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

Before I went to bed Thursday morning, my mom was watching American Idol. One dude chosen for the final 12 is singing his clinching song. "He's a real man. Works on a fucking oil rig. He's good. He just picked the wrong fucking song."

Another contestant is announced as making the final 12. "I got it right. Fucking America got it right."

Mom is not happy with one of the contestants not chosen. "Fucking Tatianna. She's crying. Not even clapping for the winners."

Mom began cleaning the house Thursday. "I'm going to fucking die doing this bullshit."

As every time she cleans up, mom is pissed at me. "Do you know where anything goes? Or do you just like to make piles in your room? (She storms away from me.) He just doesn't give a fuck."

Another pissed off one while I'm in my room.
Mom: Can you open this (glass door for the stereo) without leaving your fingerprints all over it? (I couldn't make out the next part, but it had a "fucking" in there somewhere.)
Me (coming into the living room): What did you say?
Mom: Nothing. Just talking to my fucking self.

FOUR CORNERS
A closer look at The Gene Pool World.

-- My new goal for the blog is to make it a whole year blogging every day. Once I got to 200, I thought I was done worrying about the streak. But about a week ago, I said in a private speech to myself: 'You can do it. Go for it. Connect Four!' I can already see July 1 on the horizon.

-- I changed my archive title from 'Blog Archive' (totally lame) to 'Gene Pool Backwash' (totally awesome).

-- The Internet at my house stopped working in the driveway this week. Phooey. I connected to post Monday and Tuesday's blog by parking on the curb toward the end of our street. I don't think I should keep doing this. Might cause a call to the police. Paying for the Internet is coming closer to becoming a reality for me.

-- Something went terribly wrong in my life in 2008. Unfortunately, there's no going back and fixing it. I have to live with this mistake for the rest of my life. I've come to except it. Hopefully, I come out stronger on the other end. All you can do with a grave error like this is learn from it so as not repeat it.

I am, of course, talking about going all of 2008 without watching My Cousin Vinny. Sure, I quoted it 17,352 times. But I didn't take two hours out of my year to take in another viewing. That won't happen in 2009. I watched the comedy in all its glory Tuesday.

As part of my penance from 2008, I'll probably watch it again before the year is out. I did find two plot holes this time. That wasn't cool. Tina popped in to watch a few minutes toward the beginning. "How the fuck he pass the bar?"

PARTING SHOTS
We're talking about the craziness of the Tyson no-trade breaking Wednesday night.

Brick: What do you think will break tonight?
Jelly: Our proofer.

There's a discussion of me writing a book.

Marcus: He's writing Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus Part II.
Brick: Oh, good. A sci-fi book.

During a lull in the evening.

Marcus: What you doing with that extra $13 a week?
JRap: You don't want to know.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
Another batch of movies.

95) The Whole Nine Yards. 2000.
And Amanda Peet. Ah, Amanda Peet.

94) Speed. 1994.
I try not to drive below 50 mph as well.

93) Bedazzled. 2000.
Damn the devil! Damn the devil to hell!

92) Lethal Weapon 4. 1998.
Looks like Japan's version of the Marx Brothers. Let's see we got Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and uh, Fucko.

91) Cinderella Man. 2005.
One more boxing movie to go. Bet you can guess what it is?