This past weekend my good friend Luke sent me a wake up call, asking if I would like to go with him to a sweet lodge. I thought to myself, “Yikes, this is going to severely interfere with my Saturday afternoon calisthenics routine down by the sound,” but then I thought “Aw heck, I’ll go anyway. After all, this sweet lodge sounds pretty sweet.” Twenty minutes and an orange later, I was in Luke’s hotrod, on my way to the sweet lodge. Little did I know, I was in for one of the sweatiest days of my life.

Why was my day sweat-drenched? It all comes down to a simple mis-communication. I thought that Luke, who has a very strong and noticeable Staten Island accent, said SWEET lodge, but in reality he had said SWEAT lodge. Though the difference here is only one letter (that letter being A) the implications are significant. What did I expect? I imagined a lovely gingerbread house, with candy cane gutters, a twizzler garden hose and a gumball compost pile out back. I pictured a nice little candy lodge, something straight out of Hansel and Gretel. Well, the experience was like Hansel and Gretel…in the sense that I felt trapped in an oven for two hours.

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I recently downloaded season two of 30 Rock and was treated to the hilarious episode titled “Greenzo.” Man, that Alec Baldwin/Tina Fey combination is something else. They legitimately make me laugh out loud. The guest star in this episode, however, makes me want to give myself a spinal tap. Similarly, I downloaded the first two episodes of the current season of Scrubs. Again, the cast is generally pretty brilliant and again, the guest star gives me chills from being so unfunny. These two guest “stars” have one thing in common (besides the ability to make me wretch in front of my TV). They were both main characters on the disturbingly popular Friends.

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Many reputable anthropologists will tell you that many reputable animals were first fish. I’m not going to get into the specifics of the whole thing, frankly I don’t understand it. Suffice it to say that everyone from Rasputin to Walt Disney has evolved from an ancient tadpole in some Triassic shit-pool. Imagining this ancestral progression can lead to a truly cosmic meditation, but I’m not interested in that. What I’m worried about is when evolution goes bad. Sure, humans are on top now, but you don’t need to be a reputable anthropologist to see that our chapter is coming to a close. Which leads me to this terrible possibility: walkin’ crocs.

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