Paris Hilton will be selling her bed in an online auction at StyleSearch.com.

In a related story, George Michael will be auctioning off the bushes where he was caught with van driver Norman Kirtland.

I went home to Boston recently. This is a photo of the door to my childhood bedroom. Notice the two black lines on the top-middle.

Below is a close-up of the top-middle of the door; I posted it when I was 14, using a label maker.

As you can see, I was a completely delusional 14-year-old.

By "Palace of Love," I think I meant, "Cluttered room filled with stacks of 'Hustler' I found in my neighbor's trash."

And by saying, "Over 40 Billion Served," I think I was referring to all the sperm who were allowed to relax in luxurious comfort on my sheets.

Needless to say, bless my parents for leaving everything as is. Ah, the memories.

I went to the park today. I sat on a bench. I reflected. All this while eating a turkey and provolone sandwich. Wow, I can multi-task.

A squirrel came over to me and asked me for a bite. (Well, he didn't ask, but you know...) So I peeled a piece of cheese off my sandwich and tossed it to him.

At which point a peculiar homeless guy, seated a few feet away from me and eating his own sandwich, said, "Be careful giving them cheese. Constipates 'em. Can't get their nuts out."

You learn whereever you go—you just have to be open to it.

Went to Cirque Du Soleil the other night. Fun. Like Ringling Brothers, but with accents.

But my date wasn't quite as sophisticated as the show: She thought Moulin Rouge was a product from Max Factor.

The September issue of "Playboy" magazine will feature Paris Hilton impersonator Natalie Reid of Canada.

Incidentally, Reid has officially replaced curling as Canada's most pathetic export.

Two Indian women are talking while they work in the garden. One of them pulls two huge potatos out of the dirt.

"Ah," she says, "these remind me of my husband's testicles."

The other women says, "They are that big?"

"No. That dirty."

Madonna has announced plans to raise $3 million to feed and educate children in the nation of Malawi.

Said Madonna, "I'm not exactly sure where Malawi is, but it sure does sound poor."

Had to get the dog neutered. (Remove his little doggie balls.) The vet said it's important to do this because it prevents things like testicular cancer.

Really? No balls = no testicular disease? What a revelation! I proposed we remove his paws to fend off athlete’s foot, or take out his lungs to stop problems caused by secondhand smoke.

The vet didn’t get the joke. The balls came off.

The vet then asked me if I wanted to get "nuticles"—fake doggie ball implants—so my pup wouldn't miss his. I was really creeped out by this idea. So I asked him, "Doc, tell me, do the fake balls feel like real ones?"

"What do you mean?" he said.

"You know ... like when they're resting on your chin ... do they feel real?"

We left quickly.

I'm not sure how I feel about the whole immigration debate: Do we allow everyone to become citizens; do we throw illegals out? That's a conversation for me and my houseboy Carlos to have at a later date.

I do take issue with the term "guest worker." Kind of absurd: 

"Hi! How are you? Welcome! The Ajax is under the sink. And be done in three hours."