For several years now, I've enjoyed reading Bill Simmons a.k.a. The Sports Guy at ESPN.com

Simmons is a 30-something Boston native that had his own website and a cult following in New England before getting hired by ESPN and getting national exposure and still having a cult following. He also spent a brief time as a writer on "The Jimmy Kimmel Show." I'd link to that but since I can't watch it in a top ten television market, then you can't click a link to the show's site from here.

Anyway, the guy's columns are amazing. He writes in depth (and by in depth, I mean often in excess of 4,000 words) about the NBA, pop culture, sports movies, current hot button topics, fantasy sports, or anything else he can think of while gabbing with his boys or watching endless hours of television.

(He's also now a published author of the book "Now I Can Die In Peace.")

Anyway, beyond his columns, he also frequently runs a column called "Mail Bag" where he (take a guess here) posts emails he's received and answers them in the column.

I frequently chuckle out loud while reading his stuff, and the mailbag's always worth a chuckle or two more. But last night, while reading the current installment, I had two moments where I not only laughed, but I laughed so hard I was gasping for air. So much so that the wife had to come check on me. I then, of course, read them both to her and she did the same thing. Especially for the second one.

Without further adieu, I bring you my two most recent favorite mailbag entries:

Q: As a new father (and especially the father of a girl), you should watch out for the following fantastically horrific trick to play on a buddy with a new daughter: The next time you're in Vegas and end up in a gentlemen's establishment, buy the new father a dance, only pay the lady friend a little extra so that during the dance, she tells your buddy her name is [insert buddy's daughter's name]. If you watch your boy, you will be able to tell the exact moment at which she reveals her "name." Yes, I am going to hell.
--Bucky, Houston

SG: I would have found this e-mail 20 times funnier one year ago. But it did get me thinking ... do certain names predispose women toward becoming strippers? Like, if we had named my daughter Tiffany, Amber or Desiree, would that have dropped her "becoming a stripper" odds from 100,000-to-1 to 75-1? What happens if you name your daughter "Cinnamon" -- does she just start stripping right out of the womb? Or do all strippers have normal names, only they adopt relatively real-sounding pseudonyms when they start working at the gentlemen's establishment? I wish somebody with an MIT degree and a giant stripper database could figure this out once and for all.

Q: What's the protocol when you're at a urinal in a public restroom and you can hear the uh, fireworks, coming from the stall behind you? Is it ever acceptable to crack a joke or is complete silence always a must?
--Big J, West Conshohocken, Pa.

SG: This happened six years ago, when my buddy Geoff and I were in a crowded men's room at Foxwoods and I dusted off the old "You show that turd who's boss, buddy" line from "Austin Powers." Brought the rest room down. And yes, I was just looking for an excuse to write the words, "brought the rest room down."

Take my word for it. You should read every word this guy writes.