Bite Me! and, um, Don't Bite Me

Today we must speak about the two greatest threats to human life as we know it in the world – mosquitoes that turn people into zombies, and Sex and the City.

I was going to start off with those evil bloodsuckers that get under your skin until you're in horrible pain, but instead I figured I’d kick things off with the mosquitoes.

According to BBC News, there’s some small town in Cambodia where mosquitoes are passing on this new strain of malaria with a 100 percent mortality rate. I had heard mortality rates were going to go back up, but that’s ridiculous.

(Wait. On second thought, that might’ve been mortgage rates I was thinking of.)

From the article: “After death, this parasite is able to restart the heart of its victim for up to two hours after the initial demise of the person where the individual behaves in extremely violent ways from what is believed to be a combination of brain damage and a chemical released into blood during ‘resurrection.’”

Sounds like a zombie to me. Zombies! Who’d a thunk it? Real life zombies. That’s some freaky shit.

And it’s still not as scary as the idea that Sex and the City will soon be in five-day-a-week reruns.

Those girls have completely ruined bar-going for college students and, ahem, slightly older folks in college towns. Suddenly young females feel compelled to consume only libations of various fruity colors, often served in martini glasses.

In an experiment conducted last night on Franklin Street that can only be described as “wildly unscientific,” it was determined that this phenomenon creates an unfortunate chain reaction in which girls go places that will serve such atrocities, guys will follow girls to these places, and the formerly fun beer-swilling atmosphere of the college town will go the way of Hammer’s rap career.

And nevermind that the dudes following the girls probably have popped collars. Their looking ridiculous is irrelevant to this debate, regardless of how highly amusing it might be to people who don’t have to follow clothes-altering trends to be cool.

But, as usual, I digress. Back to the zombies - the actual ones, not the fad-following frat boys. As far as those zombies go, Cambodian officials have assured the public that the virus is contained. They say that there is no need to worry.

They obviously don’t get Sex and the City on their Cambodian cable package.

If You Need Me, I'll Be In Mudchute

When my roommate's girlfriend recently got a kitten, many suggestions were bandied about as potential names for the feline. One moniker, suggested by my roommie, was "Otis Spunkmeyer" like the cookie guy. And it would have made a fantastic name, except that girls don't think stuff is funny the same way guys do.

One thing we can all agree on, though, is that places with funny names are, well, funny. Where's a thesaurus when you need one?

This needless preamble brings me to the fact that I recently came across a list of the top 100 rude names of places in Britain. Problem is, while the list is funny, the British are about as good at ranking funny things in their correct order as they are at making world-class cuisine. (See, I love England. It's cool. I could've gone the cheap-shot dental-joke route there, but I didn't. I went the cheap-shot food-joke route.)

The No. 1 name on the list? Cocks, Cornwall.

Come on! Once you see all the other names on the list, deciding that is the "rudest" (or even funniest) name, makes me want to rename Great Britain "Pretty Good Britain."

You're telling me that Cocks is funnier than Wetwang, East Yorkshire (which was No. 25)? Not only do we have the same part of the anatomy in play, but now we have a moisture-rich condition to boot. Yet it's 24 slots behind on the list.

Titty ho, Northamptonshire (No. 33)? Cumloden Court, Dumfries and Galloway (No. 80)? The Furry, Cornwall (No. 46)? None of these are funnier than Cocks?!

(Side note No. 1: What's up with Cornwall? Lots of funny names there.)

(Side note No. 2: If you think I'm not going to refer to the vagina from now on as "The Furry" you are sadly, sadly mistaken.)

And I'm sorry, but I love a good degree-of-difficulty bonus. No one watches the Olympics to see a dude dive straight into the pool. They want to see tucks and twists, something to make the damn thing interesting. Yet Cocks is the funniest thing going on British maps? Please.

My vote goes to No. 11 on the list, Hole of Horcum, North Yorkshire, just because, well, there's a lot going on there. So you have to work it out for yourself to some extent. I mean, if you opened a furniture store, what would be funnier, calling it "Shit to Sit On" or calling it "Sofa King Comfortable?" Cleverness ought to count for something.