In case you haven't heard, on January 2, 2005, Dave Barry published what may very well be his last column. Ever. It also may not be. Dave offered this crucial statement about the possibility of returning to his column, "I hope to weigh in from time to time if something really important happens, such as a cow exploding in a boat toilet." Being a huge fan of Dave, I am sad that I will no longer be able to look forward to his weekly columns. I'll just have to rely on his numerous non-fiction books, collections of columns, and his two fiercely clever novels, Big Trouble and Tricky Business.

My sister says that now that Dave Barry has retired, I should take his job. I have a website with a blog (www.lauradugan.com/blog), and every time I make an entry, I try to be as funny as possible and am completely uninhibited (as shown by one of my recent entries in which I asked a friend if I could remove my brain with an ice cream scoop). So my sister really got me thinking about this. But me? The next Dave Barry?

Let's face it. I love Dave Barry. I would love to BE the next Dave Barry. Well, except for the whole being male thing. And the whole being obsessed with low flow toilets thing. And the whole being the father of two children thing. I love kids. I just don't think I'm ready for that responsibility. Perhaps it would be better to say I would love to be LIKE Dave Barry. And to be liked by Dave Barry.

If I were like Dave Barry I'd be wildly popular and everyone would laugh at my columns about crazy things like my obsessions with old movies (as previously reported here), rabid dog foaming toothpaste (the toothpaste foams, not the dog), and criminals who cover themselves and surrounding furniture with Vaseline (true story).

If I were like Dave Barry, Carl Hiaasen would be my best friend and I would kiss his feet every time he came near me. Okay, maybe not his feet, but definitely a cheek. Maybe even on the lips. Is he married? Carl, if you read this, I am available and waiting! And I could join their band, the Rock Bottom Remainders, with Stephen King, Amy Tan, and Matt Groening, among others. I am re-learning how to play the violin. I'm sure I'd fit in just fine.

If I were like Dave Barry, I'd finally get a Pulitzer. (Finally? I'm 23 and have had exactly 1 article published.) People would email me with great column ideas, and even when they didn't, I'd easily be able to come up with something in this sick, twisted brain of mine.

I'd have great "alert readers." Well, I can't have alert readers, cause that's what Dave had. I'd have "vigilant readers," like my sister, who sends me pictures of her first attempt at making an apple pie. It turned out perfectly.

So Dave, I will valiantly attempt to assume your post in my small little world. Dear vigilant readers, get those comments and emails sent. And someday I will be just like Dave Barry. Maybe I'll even get to drive the Weinermobile. In the meantime, I'll be sure to keep an extra beer in the fridge in case Carl Hiaasen shows up to watch some football, assuming that's what he does. I'm ready, Carl. Anytime.