People.

People confuse me. They act and behave so sporadically that it’s sometimes nearly impossible to truly know someone. A good friend of mine, whom I have known for over eight years (and will call “G” in this blog), is currently in the worst mental state of his life due to severe issues with his now “ex” wife. The whole situation came and went in a whirlwind of anger and confusion in about a two week time span  and it still confuses the whole team of people involved. I don’t truly think anyone fully processes it all yet simply because of the circumstances involved that led up to the dissolution of the marriage. It was a shock to everyone, and only got worse as more and more facts were revealed. My heart reaches out to him fully because of what he now has to deal with. I cannot begin to fathom his state of being right now but ultimately he will be a better and wiser man after he emerges. Currently though he is in tatters.

I’m not saying I’m a perfect person, which gives me the right to judge others like a saint. I’m not perfect. I've done my fair share of stupid things in life, and a lot of them could have been mitigated if I had more foresight about the downstream effects. Hindsight is a cruel thing though, and unfortunately there is no rewind button on our actions. G, like myself, must live with what has happened and only learn from it. Relationships can be repaired to a point, evil acts can be forgiven somewhat, and enemies can be absolved, but the deep and inner hurt will always live on – if even as the smallest smolder of anger. I imagine he will never truly recover from the broken marriage that started growing when he and I were freshman in high school - just like my friendships I destroyed due to incorrectly started romantic relationships in college.

I learned from my mistakes. Truly I did. That whole year was a complete clusterfuck, and I was in severe depression for a long time after I had time to reflect on what I did. As a trusting and loving person who doesn't want others to be harmed, I hope that my friend’s ex-wife never gets to the depression I was in, but if she does I hope she learns from it and has the bravado to go forward and admit that she was wrong. She has no one but G to apologize to since her ruined social circle are now nothing more than on-watchers  I will, of course, do all that is in my power to keep her away from him so he doesn't fall into a rebound, but I think he is strong enough to know to not repeat. She needs to pay for what she has done, even if it’s a personal battle that she fights with herself. Everyone needs to feel the consequences of their missteps, and I don’t think I’m a cruel person for saying it. The only way that anyone can heal from a traumatic life event is to have raw nerves exposed no matter what side of it they were on. We like to get caught up in spontaneous actions and spur-of-the-moments, but after all the cards are on the table reality always seeps back in.

I don’t hate her, but I hate what she did, and I hate how she made my friend feel. I hate how she made us all feel, and I hate that she has removed even the slightest part of my high school social circle. I don’t know if she deserves a second chance with us – all I know is that G doesn't owe her anything, so everything else is irrelevant.

Why game?

Someone once asked me the question of why do I still play video games. It wasn’t “why do you play games”, but instead why still. It irked me, and still does. I’m out of college, usually act like a responsible adult during normal business hours, and yet I felt like since I’m not longer 12 I should have grown out of it. The issue with this person’s full thought process is that they think the hobby is somehow inferior to other ones, and contributes to nothing to personal development. I disagree with the last part of that sentence, but we we will get to that later. I feel that hobbies don’t need to be defined and judged as long as they aren’t illegal. What you do with your free time is supposed to be something personal, something you connect to, and a talking point with others in your social circle that enjoy doing the same activities. Most importantly, AS LONG AS YOU ENJOY IT THEN KUDOS TO YOU. Who cares if people of a different age group also enjoy it?

Gaming as a whole has had a negative stigma attached to it for over two decades. This is evident by people still associating the word “gamer” to an irresponsible and procrastinating slacker whose only desire is to yell profanities at other slackers on Xbox Live. This is mainly the fault of the industry that creates the games themselves, and while I don’t disagree that a large majority of the audience that plays Call of Duty and other popular shooter series can fall into this stereotype, it’s also unfair to say that they are the representative for the rest of us. The fact that “gamer” is a recognized term is also telling; you don’t hear others categorizing their friends as “readers”, “movie goers”, or “shoppers”. I’ve never heard someone speak the phrase “He’s one of those readers, isn’t he?”

This problem is not entirely the government’s or media’s fault, though. It’s still a new medium when compared against the long life that other hobbies have already enjoyed, so it still needs to be accepted… and I think it has been. It is a multi-billion dollar industry, so I imagine that makes some waves. How can it be so bad if it is enjoyed by such a large and diverse audience?

Beep. Boop.

This stigma also affects the ones of us that try to break away from it. I sometimes feel embarrassed when people find out I play video games, but only because I know they will most likely judge me for doing it. I think they are wrong for changing their opinion of me because my version of escapism is different than theirs, but I don’t feel like I can control it because it’s not one individual that needs to be educated. Society as a whole has cast the past time differently in their minds because how it has been portrayed in the media and the advertising machine as a whole. They don’t know that there are dozens of other game genres in the industry that make millions of dollars in revenue a year, and a lot of them take immense levels of skill, knowledge, and time to truly master. There are real life plane simulators, tactical war games, military shooters, and pinpoint precision action games that get swept under the rug because they are not part of a widespread advertising campaign. None of them are “pick up and play” because they take hours of study and trial-and-error to master sometimes even the most basic of concepts. Do you think these games are also played by the ones that are insulting each others’ mothers over a wireless headset? I’d bet on the answer.

I play video games. I’m happy to admit it. It has been one of my hobbies for as long as I have enjoyed
reading books, watching sports, and going to movies. It’s part of me, but it’s not all of me. I will fully
admit that I play video games more than other people of my age group, but I also guarantee you that
I read more books as well. The fact that I would be judged negatively for the former, but praised for the latter is stupid. And something that I will have to just deal with because I’m not changing what I do
when I’m bored and by myself until I no longer enjoy doing it. There’s no time table for this hobby, and
it’s not like I have to turn in my membership at a certain birthday. As long as it doesn’t affect my existing relationships, or put me in financial ruin, I’m going to continue saving the world from the undead horde that threatens our virtual streets.

One day when The Uprising begins, you’ll thank me.

Apple Care Comes Through! - Part II

Never mind!

Apple Care didn't come through. Anything beyond software damage I have to pay $199 extra to fix. Because apparently warranties don't work the same way in Steve Jobs World; if it's cosmetic damage (i.e. if you drop it), you have to pay more than the warranty you already bought to help defend against said problems.

Screw you Apple. In the trash the iPad goes. Hello Amazon Kindle Fire. I'm staying with you because you won't price gouge.

Megan's Noodle House

About five years ago a Noodle Pho House opened up in the back of a random nondescript strip mall in my down town. There was no pomp and circumstance, no major ads, barely even a banner or flag outside to signal the new restaurant's existence into the world. The only reason that I even knew of it was because I was shopping for a bottle of Ibuprofen one lazy Sunday and saw the bright red awning. Being curious, I went inside to see what it was (I had yet to enjoy Pho during my life time) and was instantly greeted by a very happy and enthusiastic Korean man. This was the start of the downfall as I became addicted to the delicious, healthy, wholesome food.

When I still lived at college there weren't many good places to go eat if you wanted to get away from the school cafeteria. There was a 24/7 Hardee's right across the highway but really who wants to eat that more than once a month? I had it for lunch a week ago and I can still feel my heart beating slow. There used to be a fairly decent diner too about a block from my dorm but it was unhygenic to the extreme. The county Health Department forced them to close down so we were left with nothing. Being at a university for four years means that you need to be social, and one of the best ways to be social is over food. I've met some of my best friends at random tables during lunch, so once I discovered Megan's all my worries were taken away as my entire social circle started going there almost at a daily basis.

I loved the place. The owner knew us by heart and would automatically have our drinks ready by the time he saw our car pull into the usually deserted parking lot. He was happy, friendly, and honest-to-God enjoyed our every moment we were there. We would tip generously and spend hours just talking about random facets our of daily lives with each other. The owner started to tell us about his family and how they arrived in the United States. He used to be a truck driver until he wanted to open a business like his father did back in his home land. It got to the point that he wouldn't even charge us for our drinks since I'm pretty sure sometimes we kept him afloat. He (who we called "Mr. Megan" since we couldn't pronounce his real name) once said that without us he wouldn't have been able to stay in business -- I don't know how much of that was true but it was a sobering statement that made us go there even more.

About a year into their business he started hinting that his lead cook (also his uncle) was trying to get more money that he deserved because he was the only one that was cooking all the food. I never knew all the gritty details but I did notice that the food quality started to take a drastic dip. Mr. Megan also wasn't smiling as much in the final leg of the restaurant and the entire atmosphere of the place started to change. He wouldn't talk to us much anymore and he was also behind the cash register writing furiously on a note pad.

I went away for three weeks for the United Kingdom. When I came back the ownership had changed. A local family that ran a chain of grocery stores completely revamped the place while keeping the same name and menu. However, the prices jumped 50% and the quality of food became even worse. The service was nonexistent and they started to push things that I didn't care about. I only went once after it changed hands and never looked back. Whenever I head back home I always check to see if the Pho House still stands. It does. It still has the same name but I don't know how they stay in business.

During my senior year, which itself is now three years in the past, I saw Mr. Megan one more time. He was a janitor at the school cafeteria. It broke my heart. He was still smiling, but he didn't know who I was and I knew that things had turned so bad that he didn't get to continue running a quality-but-small business anymore.

Apple Care comes through!

For the three of you that care - don't fret! I have been told that my iPad will be fixed without issue.

UNFORTUNATELY, I have been told that I am getting an Amazon Kindle Fire as my one and only gift from my parents for Christmas. Sure, I may be out of college and a full grown adult... but yay presents! This means that I am going to sell my refurbished iPad once it is received back.

First World Problems indeed.

And, once everything is completely done and through, I will be receiving a profit on the overall transaction. Who knew that breaking my tablet would actually net me money in my checking account?

That is my happy face.

Anyone want to buy a like new iPad 3?

Man Versus Machine

Two evenings ago, slightly tipsy from Happy Hour with co-workers, I embarked on the quest to install new hardware in my Frankenstein shell of a computer. A half an hour later two sticks of RAM were causing all types of errors to pop up on my screens, stopping my attempted Operating System wipe from working, and even making my hard drive say it was corrupt and therefore useless.

Obviously the RAM was faulty. How it was faulty was a complete mystery to me, though.

So I removed the sticks, pondering how exactly memory could be saying that the entire system was on full alert and needed to be melted in a furnace to rectify the problems. “No matter!” I thought, “I’ll just return them to Amazon and get my money back!” No harm done. It’s not like I needed the RAM anyway; it was more of a nice-to-have that I decided to pull the trigger on because I was already undertaking the overhaul project. Plus the prices were cheap.

With the faulty hardware removed, I was sitting on my floor still. Sam Adams’ lager still in hand. My iPod was blaring from its little portable desk speakers above (which had recently been rescued from my cubicle at work since it was not being used for much more than a window ledge decoration). A CPU was mounted, whirring happily. Solid state hard drive quiet as can be. Even my brand new graphics card, longer than a dinner plate but sleek and impressive, was sitting quietly in its harness. I knew the card worked; I had already installed it and through process of elimination figured out that it was not the troublesome hardware that was giving me a full panic attack.

Besides! The device manager in Windows 8 was saying that it was identified, functioning, and up to date with  ts drivers. The card itself wasn’t sounding like a jet engine, and my computer monitors weren’t tripping out like a progressive rock concert as a tell tale sign that “Hey, I think your GPU isn’t working right.” So I was content.

Until I tried to run a video game. Blue Screen of Death popped up. I frowned. I may have cursed. Ranting and yelling for a few minutes, I realized that maybe the previous card’s drivers were interfering with the new one. But no! That can’t be it! They run on the EXACT SAME DRIVERS. Literally. File-by-file, they run on everything 100% mirrored to the other’s. That can’t be the issue. Right?

Wrong. I uninstalled everything, wiped all traces of anything “NVidia” ever touching my system, and installed clean. Boom. Works like a charm.

Overnight my computer goes to sleep. Because it’s a human likes me, and needs its rest. I wake up the next morning, and there’s another error. Screw you computer, I’m winning this fight. So I turn off the sleep cycle, and it never has caused me an error again.

I win! The machines will not take over.

Then I drop my iPad on the tile floor, tipsy yet again. It shattered. Broken. Unrepairable. I have to fight Apple’s support system, hoping I don’t pay for it to be fixed.

The machines heard me, and they fought back. I lose. I’m pretty sure I heard the graphics card whir up in laughter at my misfortune.

I miss hockey.

:(

Yes. It warranted an emoticon. An emoticon, even. The void between baseball used to be filled with hockey. Now it's watching the Wizards lose, and the weekly Redskins game. Don't get me wrong - I love the NFL. But hockey is sometimes up to four games a week, so it gives a sports' fan nightly entertainment if he is like me and doesn't have an overflowing social life.

I blame the owners. Actually, I blame everyone (including the players), but it's the owners that locked out the players in the beginning so it's ultimately on their heads. This is Bettman's THIRD work stoppage in his tenure.

He is still around why...?

--

At the moment I am watching college hockey on TV because it's better than nothing at all. Maine and Boston U are playing each other. It's 1-0 in the third period. I know none of the players or the teams. I don't know if any of them are good, or even what their records are. Hell, I don't even know their league or their divisions. It's boring as can be, but a poor man will take what he can get.

Therefore, to help get over this I will post a picture of Braden Holtby I took at a recent Hershey Bears game.

HE'D BE THE GOALIE FOR THE CAPITALS RIGHT NOW, DAMN IT.

The pursuit of education.

I am currently pursuing a Master's degree. Well, two in fact, but you can't technically be in two different degree programs at the same time so it's more of a "finish one, immediately start the next one" type of deal. It's a science degree in Cyber Security, coupling on an MBA at the end that will most likely cripple any extra income I get for the next ten years.

Why am I doing it? Because I'm insane. That's why. Actually no, I'm not insane. I just like learning. It's not like I have zero federal loan debt that makes my brain ask what other types of monthly expenses it wants to tack on. It's not like I have an abundance of free time seven days a week, either. I'm not even entirely sure that I will even be able to find a job that will use both of them - it's just that my current role as a Business Analyst has a hybrid use of technology and business skills, so I want to continue to go down this path and see where it takes me.

No, I'm doing more school because I want to do it. I'm very much against sitting still in life, which is probably why I've had quite a few jobs, girlfriends, social groups, and even hobbies of interest. None of them last too long, but I always come back to them because I like switching things up and keeping things interesting. It's probably a major personality flaw, but it's me.

The only negative I can say about my school is that it is purely online. It's a blessing and a curse because I don't have to travel across the state a couple times a week, and I can do most of my work at home at my own pace. I like not having a set classroom to be in, which means I can revolve my weeks around whatever I have had planned already. Do I want to go to a concert? Sure! Just make sure I stay up until 10 PM for four days straight so I can have a paper written. Oh, this means I have to have all the readings and other assignments done. It gets tiring after awhile, but I enjoy it at the same time. Even if I don't use my degrees for a few years it will be nice to have that "M.S." at the end of my email signatures. I also like hanging things on my walls besides movie and concert posters.

The professors are an entirely different issue though, and it's gotten to the point that a couple of my fellow classmates have emailed the entire course and asked if they were insane for thinking that the teaching level was below standard. Generally most of us have agreed, and it's very disheartening to hear a professor say, "I just grade your work" when we ask for help or clarification on what we have to do. Some people (myself included) cannot learn completely tactile; we need hands-on or visual help, so feeling that we are paying $600/credit to basically do Google searches if we are confused on something our text book says doesn't make one feel like they have made a good investment.

Still... maybe I just feel like the courses should be harder. I definitely do a lot of work in them, but on most of my assignments I feel like I am only challenged less than half the time. I know I'm not a genius, so maybe I just thought a Master's degree should be hard when in fact it's not? That doesn't make sense to me. I am holding onto a 3.2 GPA right now, and I could easily be doing a lot more work each week than I do... yet there's no reason for me to do so because my mind is saying that I'm passing with ease with my current study habits so why change it?

Ah well. My school is part of the official Maryland university system. It's accredited  and has been around for a long time. I highly doubt it's a degree mill; it must just be that my pursuit is a new one for the school so they are still refining it.

As long as it all still counts when I get to finally walk across the stage then I won't mind if the journey was sometimes hinky or confusing. As long as it doesn't screw me when I get into a job that requires me to use the skills I was supposed to learn.

Musical insanity.

My mentioning of music made me think that I should probably just put it out there now: I am, and will always be, a huge fan of music and everything that encompasses it.

I have seen countless live shows. I have a drawer full of ticket stubs. I follow artists online like a stalker. I own over 200 albums. I call them albums.

I have an unhealthy obsession of pre-Phil Collins Genesis that I'm sure all of my friends are tired of me talking about at every chance I have. I have a tattoo on my arm of the logo from "The Lamb Lies Down on the Broadway". I've seen a tribute band recreate the entire album without missing a beat. Twice. I drove over two hours one way to see them.

I listen to music, my iPod, Pandora, Spotify, r.dio, and even elevator music at work.

One of my two internships in college was at a non-profit radio station.

I had a radio show at undergrad for over three years. It never had popularity due to the station's inability to promote itself (and sometimes even stay away from dead air). But I loved the show. I treated it as my own, and I had a co-host that was a perfect match for me and how I talked on radio. I loved the show much that I didn't let my fear of talking to a live audience dissuade me. Did I sometimes studder or hesitate? Sure. But it's music. It's my passion.

Do I have excellence taste? No. I know that I should really try to stay away from progressive rock and branch out more. But I have. And I do. I own more than ten thousand songs on my iPod - it's not all progressive rock. I have everything from rap to blues to jazz or alternative rock to country to southern rock to NPR podcasts.

The point is that music is who I am. I have often judged people and girlfriends for their tastes (or lack) in music. If someone says, "I like everything" this tells me that they listen to whatever is on the radio because they don't have preference. You have to have a preference! You can't say "I like it all" and actually believe that! You either don't like it and therefore are lying to yourself, or you are lying and just like the background noise. We all have opinions.

My opinions? Well, I feel like I was born in the wrong decade. My aforementioned love for progressive rock doesn't have a lot of of suitors in my age group. If I even mention the genre I usually get blank stares, and then start the fruitless conversation of explaining myself. I've come to the point of just saying "Y'know, Pink Floyd" and hope for the love of God that they at least know what Comfortably Numb is so we can change the subject.

If I could, I would have grown up in the 70s. It's when all of my favorite albums were created. From Genesis, to Zeppelin, to Floyd, to The Who, to King Crimson, to The The, to Jethro Tull, Gentle Giant, Van der Graaf, and Soft Machine. These are the bands that made me realize that there is so much more than the Top 40 radio station hits. These are the bands that made me biased against everything that everyone else listens to because I am full of myself, and think that what I have in my earbuds is the best. If it's not a complex mixture and creation of sound with eight different layers I will scoff at it. Am I wrong for doing this? Sure I am. But it's how I was raised.

In middle school I rotated in my Sony Disk Man for two years the soundtrack of The Matrix, Blink 182's "Enema of the State", and Peter Gabriel's "Security". If this doesn't give you a hint of how my tastes can fluctuate then God help you.

Gabriel in my eyes, is the best creator of lyrics in music.

He also used to have hair.

To get back to the main reason for creating this post: be prepared for a lot of ramblings about whatever found its way into my ITunes library. The album of the week. Song du jour. I could easily be obsessed with something as light and insane as Skrillex just as much that I went to a used music store and bought a record player simply because I found a Miles Davis album on the side of the road. I also can't guarantee that I won't gush about prog rock or Genesis or Gabriel; this is because I know I will. I have to. Hearing the first taste of "Security" blew my mind and changed what music was to me. It would be a disservice to not. If you are a real life friend to me, you've probably read or heard this from me before. Just feel free to fast forward to a video game review or something.

I'll end with I am listening to the last bit of "Supper's Ready" in my Sennheiser surround sound earphones right now. Still sipping on the pale ale mentioned in the first post. Supper is a 23-minute epic of a song that has only been rivaled by a couple Dream Theater songs. Surpassed? No. It's still king. Goes from quiet to intense within seconds, and doesn't let up until you are already tired and spent from the emotions that just ravaged through you.

"Walking across the sitting room, I turn the television off
Sitting besides you, I look into your eyes
As the sound of motor cars fades in the night time,
I swear I saw your face change, it didn't seem quite right.

And it's 'Hello babe. With your guarding eyes so blue...'"

What's all this noise?

I don't really know how blogging should work. I think I continually look for a purpose for them, or a theme, or a reason to write a post every couple of days to ensure that I made the damn thing for more than because I was bored at the time.

But the truth is that I've had many blogs over the years. I've made ones with a purpose. Or a theme. Or a reason to get up in the morning. But in the end they all fail because I feel like they have no use or they've been quiet for too long.

I think this is type of thinking is silly. I don't write blogs for anyone else. I don't write my thoughts out so people can critique them or think I'm insane or wrong. It's not a Master's-level thesis on the interworkings of the human mind, or a Psych 101 course paper. I'm also not a professional social media analyst, or someone that gets paid because he's an Internet celebrity, which means I have to have a certain postings-to-day ratio to ensure my thousands I get paid are for a reason. (What I'm saying is that I'm not Wil Wheaton, that entitled fucked.) I will never get to that point, and I'm damn glad that it's the case. The Internet is fine and all that, but why have every single character you type into a keyboard become analyzed by thousands a people?

No. If that's what you want from me, then that's not what you are going to get. I can't guarantee quality, quantity, or sanity. I can promise you though that everything I write here will be truth.

But writing a diary with a grand scheme in mind? That's crazy talk. This is not why I'm creating my (5th?) initial post on an online diary. If no one ever reads this then I'd be as happy as I could ever be. I don't really mind. I'm not here to please anyone, nor will I ever think I was put here on this planet to do so.

So where were we. Why am I here? Why did I make this blog? Well, it's an outlet I suppose. I, like all sentient beings, have a lot of thoughts throughout the day, and often I forget them as soon as I think they because I'm a horrible person with an even worse memory. Sometimes I think I should buy a dream diary so all the fucked up shit my brain creates while I'm unconscious could be cataloged, but then I forget to buy said diary and the vicious loop continues.

The point is that I like having a place to put my thoughts. They can, and will I assure you, range from everything and nothing without any rhyme or reason. Anyone who has ever met me in real life knows that I can be random at times for no reason function beyond that's just how I work. It's how I'm wired. I will often find a way to not be or act or talk normal simply because it can make me uncomfortable if I'm forced to subscribe to the edicts of the Social Contract for longer than I can handle. Does it make sense? No, it doesn't. But it's how I've worked and existed for 25 years. All of the choices and subconscious interactions that have shaped me into who I am today have made me into the man I am today. I am flawed, I have made some horrible choices in my life, but I am happy with myself all the same. I don't live for anyone except myself right now, and I'm happy as I said.

So. I guess I should stop rambling. Or should I not? I am, after all, a tad bit drunk (always a good way to make a first impression). I am drinking a pint of delicious pale ale that has been sitting chilled in my fridge for way too long, and I'm hopped up on painkillers with nowhere to go, so I think it's an excellence mix of items to end a quiet Saturday with. (The painkillers are for my leg, which is having random muscle spasms since this morning. No idea why. I thought Advil was the best/cheapest first stab at a remedy. I'm not a pill addict.)

My beer is called Elysian Not So Pale Ale. I don't know why the "not so" is on the label, because it's pretty light for my tastes. Not to say that it's a bad beer; on the flip side, it's actually pretty damn tasty. I'm enjoying it rather a lot. I have some music playing in the background, and I'm toasty and content. I'm also a little bit alone, but that's probably the alcohol talking. It's also the painkillers. And the fact that my significant other is nowhere to be seen for a couple weeks. Sad.

No time to get sad though! I should be happy! Life is good. Music is good. I saw Neil Young for the first time in my life at George Mason University yesterday evening. It was a fantastic show that never saw my mouth shut once. I'm still dry and coughing from it. The man is old as dirt, but can still rock out as well as Townsend, Page, Waters, Banks, or any other classic rock god. My only complaint was that my father made an ass of himself because he believes the world revolves around him... but that's par for the course. And another blog post entirely.

I'll end this non sequitur hello by saying that if you do stumble across this blog, I do apologize if it does not meet your tastes. As stated, it doesn't have a theme, or a motive. It's my little diary, and I'm shameless enough to post it for the WWW to see.

Some common postings you will see (that directly reflect who I am) will include, but not be restricted to:

• Music of all kinds
• Video games
• Politics
• My thoughts on the world
• Friendships
• Flawed personality (i.e. - the author)
• Books
• Movies
• Relationships
• My girlfriend
• Employment
• Beer

I would also like to stress that the last bullet will often be more than just "Beer is good." While that statement is accurate, it will also have a tale around why the day's discussion is about alcohol. This tale may or may not be about the beer itself; the beer may just be a sad victim in an unfortunate recounting of hijinx that cannot legally go without being written for the world to see.

Finally... a picture of a baby cursing AT me, instead of me cursing AT it. Because babies scare me. They are money and happiness-sucking black holes. That's why. Sorry future wife if you are reading this - if we have a kid, I assure you that it was just my mid-20s self talking at the time. Johnny is awesome, and the love of my life. He also just threw up his Cheerios. Nose goes on the clean up.

Please don't divorce me.

Now you know the reasoning for the title.

What do you mean LOST has no plot?!