Killer Whales Almost Killed Me

I haven't had time to write a Tuesday Top Ten this week because I had to travel to a whale's vagina for an orca-based business skills seminar.  We could learn a lot from these noble beasts you call killer whales.  Pods.  Think about it.  I will say this.  The Dollar Rent-a-Car location near the San Diego airport is a strange and fascinating place.  It's right next to a strip club (all-nude, in case you're wondering), which is pretty sweet if you have some time to kill while waiting for your Ford Focus.  The Dollar workers seem to have taken a page out of Ron Burgundy's book, as one twenty-something male employee with hair like Pauly D kept asking a thirty-something potentially South American female co-worker if she had a boyfriend.  It is also apparent that the only two demographics who rent from this Dollar location are professionals between the ages of 25 and 40, women with really big bottoms, and unkempt Baby Boomers who wear Outback hats and are returning to Southern California presumably to attend the Manson Family reunion.  Also, I learned that it is considered more rude to point out to a fellow air passenger that he is "snoring like a fucking chainsaw and annoying the shit out of everyone on the plane" than to actually snore like a chainsaw and annoy the shit out of everyone on a plane.