A whole lot of sex. Mostly out of wedlock.

Several lanes of Interstate Highway 80 were shut down for hours overnight after a truck hauling Oreos crashed into a median, spilling tons of the chocolate cookies across the highway, police said.

The crash occurred at about 3:40 a.m. Monday on I-80 just east of Morris, said Master Sgt. Brian Mahoney of the Illinois State Police.

The truck was westbound, hauling about 20,000 pounds of Oreos, when the driver lost control and the rig hit a median before veering into the eastbound lanes. The impact ripped the trailer open, spilling its cargo across the eastbound lanes of the highway, he said.

The driver was not hurt, but police had to shut down the eastbound lanes for several hours while the cookies were cleaned up, Mahoney said. The wreckage had been moved to the side of the road and lanes had reopened by about 6 a.m.

From “Oreo spill: Got milk? Crash strews Oreos over I-80″ published May 19, 2008 at Chicago Tribune.

The avocado (Persea americana) originated in south-central Mexico, sometime between 7,000 and 5,000 B.C. But it was several millennia before this wild variety was cultivated. Archaeologists in Peru have found domesticated avocado seeds buried with Incan mummies dating back to 750 B.C. and there is evidence that avocados were cultivated in Mexico as early as 500 B.C.

Avocado Fun Facts:

• Avocados are a fruit, not a vegetable, belonging to the genus Persea in the Lauraceae family.
• Avocados are sodium- and cholesterol-free and have only five grams of fat per serving, most of it the monounsaturated kind.
• California produces about 90% of the nation’s avocado crop.
• San Diego County is the Avocado Capital of the U.S., producing 60% of all the avocados grown in California.

California Avocados and the Environment:

• In one year, a single California avocado tree can absorb as much carbon as is produced by a car driven 26,000 miles.
• Two mature avocado trees can provide enough oxygen for a family of four.
• A one acre avocado orchard removes up to 2.6 tons of carbon dioxide each year.
• Southern California avocado orchards remove 25 - 88 lbs of (dry nitrogenous) pollutants per acre from the environment. (Based on University of California deposition data).
• California avocado farmers rely on Integrated Pest Management (IPM) to combat pests and diseases. As a result, California avocados rank among the lowest of all fruits and vegetables for pesticide use.

From Avocado.org

Thousands and thousands of people migrate to the big city. And for every success story there are ten failure stories that you will never hear about in The Wall Street Journal or Rolling Stone Magazine. The rags to riches story is a romantic one, and one that Bobby always thought would happen to him. He would look at those sleeping on the benches next to him and discern that they did not share the same fate. But after years of a concrete mattress, he did loose hope. It wasn’t one life changing epiphanous event but rather a slow and methodical haze between lucid heroin induced sleeping comas and long drags from short cigarette butts. It had to be this way, though. Because Bobby was following a path. He dedicated his life to music, but unfortunately music did not dedicate anything to him.

For every 40,000 tons of garbage added to a landfill at least one acre of land is lost to future use.

From “Analysis: New York, Garbage Capital of the World” by Lester R. Brown at Environmental News Service.

Last flush: Cup of Texas Style Chili, $3.99, Chicken and Ribs Combo, $11.99, Wild Berry Daiquiri, $7.99 from Dallas BBQ.

Last night I realized, you can’t out run shame. I was putting my girlfriend into a cab and that’s when I saw it. Lying there by the curb. Turning to kiss Gwen goodnight I tried to ignore it. But as her cab drove away my mind traveled in the opposite direction, back to when I was a boy.

I was the most anxious prepubescent on the face of the earth. The state of my sexuality was all consuming for me. I’d seen Gary Kligmann in the locker room during gym. At 13 he had the penis of a 33 year old – with a full bush and dangling shlong to match. As soon as my eyes detected it, I was traumatized. Me, I was a late bloomer, with the pea sized balls of a rabbit. As a result anything could make me feel inadequate.

Take for example, Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. On one particular Sunday night I remember sitting with my mom and dad on the sofa watching nature’s drama unfold. Cameramen and biologists were exploring seal colonies off the coast of California. Horrific battles between half-ton males were taking place on the beaches. Fueled by testosterone and driven by the desire to mate, these bulls as the narrator referred to them, bloodied themselves for the chance to mount a prized female. There was not a coward among them. Except for the small group of young male outcasts that lacked the brawn to vie for a female and continue their bloodlines. Their failure struck deep into my heart. It was obvious to me that my future held the same fate. I was to live out my life as a useless male, weak and cowardly, doomed to spend my days on “Bachelor Rock” with the rest of the effeminate seals.

Things only got worse when I convinced myself that I was growing a cunt. Back then I’d spend countless hours locked in the bathroom soaking in the tub waiting to go through puberty. Beneath the suds and water my hands, with great anticipation, would explore the impending arrival of my genitalia. “When, when, when would I start to become a man?” It was within the moment of one of these deep dream states that my fingers slipped just due south of my scrotum to the area commonly referred to as the taint. T’ain’t your ass, t’ain’t your balls. And while I know this now - back then the mystery was far from being solved. It was there that I discovered a small patch of hair. And through closer inspection a slight ridge of skin, that ran from my asshole to my balls. Now I didn’t know much about female anatomy at this point but I was pretty sure this was where their business took place. Devastated I sprang from the water. Hair first, lips next. It was only a matter of time before it all developed into a full-blown vagina and I would begin to live my life as a freak

Soon enough everyone I knew had been asked by Mother Nature to join the young adults club. They got the inside joke about why elephants come in quarts, they became bored with Judy Bloom books, and they were jaded to the clinical diagrams of bisected genitalia in our science books. Alas I remained 13, boyish, and alone to draw my own conclusions about whether or not I was ever going to grow up to be a man. Or a woman. Then as a finally mockery even the year transformed.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 – Happy New Year!!!! 1978 became 1979. My parents were out celebrating. I’d been left at home, free to order the pizza of my choice, to stay up late for the first time ever without a sitter, and to watch Dick Clark’s Rock’in New Years Eve. Back in those days I’d entertain myself by snooping through my parent’s belongings. I’d go through their closets, shoeboxes, and desk drawers. I’d found a bag of pot in my dad’s nightstand. In my mother’s vanity I discovered a small, velvet, drawstring pouch that contained an extra set of false teeth she used to replace of the real ones she’d lost thanks to a field hockey accident in college.

It was while I was rummaging through her stuff and spraying her perfume into the air that I became curiously aroused. Staring down into her panty drawer I lifted a pair of stockings from the dresser. Without thinking I pulled off my pajamas and pulled on the stockings. I looked like a dancer from the New York City Ballet. Impressed by my package I began to finally believe in my own manhood. My erection seemed to agree and stretched out beneath the navy blue nylons. I turned around and stuck my ass out towards her vanity mirror. “Take that bitch.” I’d said aloud. What if I added pearls? I pulled a strand from her jewelry box and wrapped them around my neck. “Would you fuck me?” I thought to myself. “Who’s the woman now?” My penis grew rock hard and ached. I uncapped one of my mother’s lipsticks, smeared a gruesome shade of red across my lips and continued to talk into the mirror. “You know you want to do her.” I told my quasi-female reflection. “I need shoes.” I was being driven by some strange hormonal imbalance. The thoughts that racing through my mind seemed to come from nowhere. My heart was beating in my ears. I opened her closet door and spied a pair of metallic gold pumps and slipped them on. I began to strut around the house. Passing by the mirror in the front hallway I caught a glimpse of my dick pitching a tent beneath the nylons. That was all it took to drive me, at super sonic speed, headlong into my first orgasm. Within minutes of my hand touching my dick, it exploded. I shook. Jisum filled the inside of my mother’s stockings. My chest heaved up and down. Sweat beaded across my brow. My skin was flushed. Then the front door opened and my parents walked in happy to be back from their party.

I’m sure they looked at me and I looked at them. But to this day all I can remember is pushing past them and running out into the street. I lost one gold shoe as I hit the sidewalk and turned to run up the driveway and hide behind the garage. And that is how I - Andre Stephen Miller, became a man.

By guest contributing writer, Nathan Walker.

Only 15% of Americans rate economic conditions as either “excellent” or “good,” matching the low for the year. Forty-four percent describe the economy as poor, only three percentage points better than the worst rating thus far in 2008. Meanwhile, 87% of Americans say economic conditions are getting worse.

Based on polling conducted May 10-12, 2008 at Gallup.

Garbage is one of New York City’s largest exports. More than 4,000 tons of city trash — about 400 truckloads — are shipped every day to out-of-state landfills. New York spends more than $71 million a year to get rid of its garbage.

From CNN.com

Hank knew it had gotten bad when he would pretend to go to the printer, just to make sure they weren’t having a meeting without him. It is said that criminals never get a good night sleep, and Hank hasn’t slept since January. He’s been working for the man long enough. Crunching numbers so detailed only his gifted mind could unravel such a labyrinth of data and computations. He’s seen the loophole for years. Lazy IT workers and tunnel vision accountants paved a comfy path to the other side. Any other man would do the same.

But Hank was no criminal. He was a Yale man. Like his father and his father before him.

Sweating through his thin button down shirt, the cleaning women have already come and gone. Sucking energy through the paper shredder, with each flick of the wrist, one more year in prison averted. As the sun comes up, Hank is still one step ahead of the consultants. But Hank knows that what today will bring, is still in the hands of the auditors.