No no no no no no no.

My desk is where freebies and sample go to die. Just call it the Florida of unloved promotions. I've gotten used to stacking folders on top of books penned by Jersey Shore stars and wore a bandana over my mouth when that terrible bottle of stroganoff-scented cologne was broken during shipping. You can say it: I'm a trooper.

Those things add clutter and distraction, but nothing has disturbed me until this tub of liquid sleep aid arrived yesterday afternoon. It's called Time 2 Sleep. You're meant to pump out the "homeopathic" lotion and slather it all over your skull: forehead gets a squirt, ditto with temples and back of neck. Wait thirty minutes and -- ta-dah!-- you're sleepy! (Best used before bedtime.)

Here's five reasons why I will never rub Time 2 Sleep on my skin.

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"And that's how land a role in a Judd Apatow film."

James Franco is in the area today, serving as Keynote speaker for the UT Arlington graduating class of 2012 at the Levitt Pavilion, in Arlington. The fest looks major, with fireworks, music and a bunch of other stuff that will distract the group of scholars from the dismal job market and their impending student loan repayments. We have to wonder though, "What wisdom will Franco impart on the youth of today? How will he raise their spirits, instil hope and educate them on the ways of the world?" He's an actor.

We sent our spies out to do a little recon. They came back, surprisingly, with the outline for Franco's graduation speech.

(Applause applause. Shake hair, rub palm over face, award smile. Toss panties back at crowd. "Suma cum laude" joke, and begin.)

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Meet my dog, Nacho. He's currently devouring Dallas.

Adopting that dog was such a good idea... until you got to know each other. He is a Tasmanian devil of destruction, consuming or demolishing all that come into his path like that smoke monster from Lost. You are a push-over who cannot establish boundaries. Something's gotta give. Despite the obvious beauty of your masterful couch reconstruction (ie: duct tape), it isn't going to keep Fido from revisiting the crime and opening up another leather cushion tomorrow. You need training, and you need it soon.

When you've adopted a dog that devours your possessions daily, you need to be conservative with how much you spend on training. Sure, that private wizard academy for well-heeled hounds might solve your fur child's behavioral dilemmas, but it'll also set you back a grand. You can't afford that, especially since you have to replace most of your living room set, your entire shoe collection and the 16 rolls of toilet paper that your dog has destroyed in the last few days.

Here are three different places that offer group training at moderate to super cheap prices.

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Dallas, you've allowed your rage to build up like an emotional credit report and now you've got to work through it. You could try therapy, but that requires effort and money. Oh, hey, why don't you just go into windowless room at an undisclosed location and smash a bunch of housewares with a bat? Or with the bottom half of a mannequin. Or anything else you can get your grubby little mitts on in the Anger Room.

Dallas' therapeutic wonderland of stress-relief through destruction, the Anger Room takes appointments via email and customizes a rage cage to your own, personal parameters. Once inside, well hell, just get it all out. Throw an out-dated television into a wall until it bleeds circuits like the Terminator. Kick that Ikea knock-off dresser apart like the Karate Kid and then chop it into sawdust with your fists.

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Kid NES and co-conspirator Eder gave Deep Ellum the gift of Nintendo last month when they painted the promotional mural for Vinyl Thoughts' newest collectable toy show, The Next Level. Disguised as 8-bit villains Wario and WaLuigi, the pair brushed and sprayed the wall of Quixotic World, where the event goes down next Thursday, March 15, and turned it into a warp zone, complete with human-sized versions of our favorite old school heroes.

In honor of next week's show, those dastardly plumbers-turned-painters have created a video commemorating the efforts. It's got everything you need for a quick work break: B-boy moves, time-lapse graffiti and Gumby commanding the needle on the turntables. Bust out the cardboard and snag a helmet, 'cause we're about to break it down.

As soon as I moved to Dallas I was told (warned?) that men will simply walk up and talk to you. Coming from Austin where men hide in the shadows, terrified of female interaction -- well hell, I was intrigued. "You mean they, just, talk?" I asked, so very curious. "Yes, they talk here," the women assured me, collectively.

They sure do. God bless 'em. Looking at this chart, I can see why. Assembled from basic census data, there are 40,000 more single men than women in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. No wonder Dallas fellas are so direct; we women are in bigger demand than broken gold. From this situation a new evolutionary strain of bro has climbed out of the primordial ooze: He is the Most Aggressive Male.

This invasive species destroys the native gender harmony by putting females in constant survival mode. The M.A.M. hunts like starved lions, so desperate for a wounded gazelle that they will infiltrate your herd and refuse to leave, blocking any passing point so that nice guys cannot enter and women cannot exit.

Spotting one is easy: he's hit on you multiple times but doesn't remember; his favorite topic of conversation is his Very Important Job; he picks up and holds something valuable of yours, like a cell phone, so that you cannot escape. The Most Aggressive Male must be shut down so that the other 90% of dudes can attempt to mate and breed them out of existence.

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Dallas Zoological Society/Cathy Burkey

"I'm just big-shelled"

The Children's Aquarium at Fair Park has a new resident, a big fat alligator snapping turtle that remained nameless until this morning. Thanks to the Carey family from Lewisville, the ancient reptile now goes by Spike and because of some very cautious handling at the Children's Aquarium we now know that he weighs in at 190 pounds.

Alligator snapping turtles are the largest variety of freshwater turtles in the world and the last of their genus Macrochelys -- the rest of his relatives have gone the way of the dinosaur. Let's look at pictures of this giant turtle.

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Jesse Hughey

Our master of ceremonies on ye olde headset mic

While I had a great time at Medieval Times celebrating my 13th birthday more than 20 years ago, and again celebrating my son's 10th last weekend, I now understand why my parents took me there exactly once as a child. There was a specific moment that drove home the realization that this was not going to become an annual birthday tradition. My wife asked some wench or squire if the "Lord Chancellor," a sort of olde-time royal hype man, could announce Lyle's birthday.

"Sure. That'll be $10.83."

That's not the price during the show, mind you, but afterward, while guests are filing out of the castle or milling about looking at $250 replica swords. She passed. Yeah, the place is a fun place to have a party, but it extracts money from customers with all the grim efficiency of a breast ripper or head crusher coercing information or confession from victims. Those two implements of agony, along with dozens of others, are on display for your pre-meal enjoyment in the Torture Museum, a walk through which costs an extra $2.

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For the hopeless romantics.

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Feast, wild animals, while nourishment is abundant.

Sunday brunch is like a Serengeti watering hole where all creatures meet with a unified objective: to drink from the healing spring of bottomless mimosas. It's where we make our weekend confessions to our closest friends, ask for absolution for the previous night's sins and talk seedily while curing hangovers with more booze. Sunglasses indoors? Yes, it's brunch. Here are a couple of great overheards from yesterday's brunch at Nomad in Austin, Texas.

Female, late-20's: "There are only two people that you never cheat on in this life: Your hairdresser and your drug dealer. In those relationships I am completely monogamous."

Male, early-30's: "These days I just wear a condom constantly. Sometimes two. Hell, three if I'm going to the D.M.V.."

Got any great brunch quotes? Put 'em in the comments.