Greetings from Tucson. Again. I hope y'all are having happy Thanksgivings.

Just a short note to say that I love my rental car. Hertz gave me a Chrysler PT Cruiser. It's awesome. If I were in the market for a new car, I'd seriously consider getting one.

And remember, Thanksgiving is the day to be thankful that you are still physically able to get in a car and drive hundreds of miles to see relatives that you previously got in a car and drove hundreds of miles to get away from.

Since it's the day before Thanksgiving and I'm ever so much the follower, I'm going to emulate all those other people who posted things they're thankful for. Here's a short list (I won't burden you with the full list):

I'm thankful:

- That after 31 years, my parents are still married and still love each other.
- That after all these years, my parents still love me and put up with me.
- For small miracles which the Powers That Be have thrown my way to keep me out of serious trouble.
- For the fact I'm employed and have a roof over my head and food on my plate.
- For the world-famous KROQ and the block-rockin' 91X.
- For my new toy, even if it can't remember to automatically sign on to AOL Instant Messenger at startup.
- For California girls.
- For cotton jersey and flannel sheets.
- For sushi.
- For the fact that Futurama is still on the air, but that there was never a sequel made to Leonard Part 6.
- For 99 cent tacos at Taco Bell.
- For my car.
- That I'm not buried in snow right now, like I would be if I were back in Boston.
- That in spite of all the efforts to the contrary by my mortal enemies, I'm still alive and kicking and bringing the funk to the world every day. Damn it, don't you know I'm the jam in your donut?

This new J.Lo. film... Maid in Manhattan... Am I completely off my rocker, or is this movie a rehash of Pretty Woman that takes place a decade and a half later in New York City rather than Los Angeles and with a maid and not a prostitute?

Bring me the head of whatever focus group and marketing genius came up with that cutesy movie title.

So, not only do I usually get screwed out of birthday celebrations in my personal life given the proximity of my birthday to Christmas, but it appears that now I'm getting screwed out of my birthday celebration in my professional life as well.

The e-mail we got today from the receptionist: Due to the office holiday party being on Friday, December 6th, we will not be having our December birthday celebration with cake as previously scheduled on Thursday, December 5. Hors d'oeuvres and cocktails will be served at the holiday party instead.

Dammit, I wanted cake and I wanted people to sing to me.

I'm so proud of myself. Even having just gotten up and still exhausted and still groggy and still uncaffeinated, I used a sentence that had both "whose" and "who's" in it, and I used them both correctly.

Don't tell me I'm not grammatically elite.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Almighty PowerBook is active. I can't even begin to tell you how ecstatic I am! And now that I have AirPort active too, I can surf the 'Net while I'm lying in bed or sitting in the living room.

In the words of Stan Marsh, "Dude, sweet!"

Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to announce that Los Angeles has its own superhero. Yes, just like Metropolis, we have someone here to defend us against the forces of evil.

I was in the supermarket yesterday, caught in the line at the self-service counter because there was an elderly couple at one terminal who obviously did not understand how to use the machine, nor did they understand the "15 items and under" limit. At another machine, the mother was allowing her 4-year-old to painstakingly slowly feed the machine dollar bills to pay their grocery charges. In front of me in line was the superhero.

The blood supply to my right hand was slowly being drained because I was attempting to carry a basket filled with heavy items like soda and ice cream. So I'd transferred my cell phone to my left hand, which is where it was when it rang, and my left hand is what I used to tip the phone's screen up towards my face so I could see the Caller ID readout. As such, I was not shocked at all by the information delivered to me when the person in front of me turned around to tell me my phone was ringing.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you... Captain Obvious.

As it turns out, not only is my birthday the shortest day of the year, it's also Humbug Day. With no sunlight and all that negative energy pouring out that day, it's bound to have an effect on my psyche.

Of course, lots of presents will help combat those humbugs... or you can always make a donation to a charitable organization on my birthday. That would be very cool as well.

To the person who's hit my site 15 times in the last 10 minutes: What you're looking for isn't here. It's not going to magically appear if you keep refreshing, either. Begone, bandwidth hog!

I'm running on minimal sleep again because Sunday night is notorious for visits by the What-Ifs. The What-Ifs are little creatures that come and whisper in your ear and ask "what if this?" and "what if that?" and as soon as my head hits the pillow, my mind kicks into high gear thinking about what's going on in the week or two ahead and worrying that it's not all going to fall into place properly. (The What-Ifs are actually an invention of Shel Silverstein's, but for purposes here, I'll assume they actually exist.) Then again, it could also be the fact that I'm up a little later on the weekends and have trouble going to sleep at "normal" times -- though normal constitutes anywhere between 11:30pm and 1:30am.

Either way, the What-Ifs apparently have been reading the paper and visiting me while I sleep, because I had one hell of a nightmare last night. I dreamed that I was in the town I grew up in (yes, the one my parents just moved out of last week) and the people there had suddenly fallen under the spell of some crazed tyrant right-wing minister who decreed that all should fully support America without question, and he had such a brainwashed following that those who were found to question him or this country would be lynched by an angry mob or brought in to see him and tortured into believing. I remember staying at a motel/gas station combo in the town with an old friend who I grew up with, and he got sick and went back to his parents' place, but he left belongings in our motel room and he left his rental car at the gas station, so I couldn't leave town because I had to make sure he got his stuff. But I was having a hard time staying because I feared for my life because if the people who were working at the gas station and the customers who came in to use its facilities found out that I wasn't entirely pleased with the way things were going with this country or its leadership, they'd take me to see the evil priest. I remember making up some story to respond to some big burly man who asked me, "Why don't you have an American flag on your car, Brother?" ("Brother" being used in the fraternal sense, of course) about how it flew off in the wind and I was getting another one, while secretly I was terrified because I didn't want to put a permanent marking on my car should someone put an American flag sticker on it. I kind of felt like one of the European Jews who practiced Catholicism in public to avoid the Nazis, but hid their true religion and true practices for fear of being carted off to a concentration camp.

This can't bode well for a Monday morning. At least it's a short week and the PowerBook arrives today...

I'm not particularly unhappy, I'm not particularly cabin-feverish. So I have no idea why I'm identifying so readily with "The Taste of Ink" by The Used.

Maybe it's the blur of days gone by, where I have lost all track of time because I'm constantly working towards deadlines that are anywhere from a day to 10 days away (though that's the result of working for a newspaper with both daily and weekly updates), and I just feel time slipping away from me. Maybe it's the fact that I'm still single. Maybe it's the fact that I've finally lost all ties to my past with my parents' move to Tucson, which will finally be completed tomorrow and when I go see them for Thanksgiving, it will be in their new home.

Monday is here. Another week begins, another issue to put together.

[Click More for lyrics.] The Used - "The Taste Of Ink"

Is it worth it, can you even hear me
Standing with your spotlight on me
Not enough to feed the hungry
I'm tired and I felt it for awhile now
In this sea of lonely
The taste of ink is getting old
It's four o'clock in the fucking morning
Each day gets more and more like the last day
Still I can see it coming
While I'm standing in the river drowning
This could be my chance to break out
This could be my chance to say goodbye
At last it's finally over
Couldn't take this town much longer
Being half dead wasn't what I planned to be
Now I'm ready to be free

So here I am, it's in my hands
And I'll savor every moment of this
So here I am, alive at last
And I'll savor every moment of this

And won't you think I'm pretty
When I'm standing top the bright lit city
And I'll take your hand and pick you up
And keep you there so you can see
As long as you're alive and care
I promise I will take you there
And we'll drink and dance the night away

As long as you're alive
Here I am
I promise I will take you there

To continue with the monosyllabic noises in the subject lines... sorry I haven't posted all day. I've had a bad headache, plus I crashed for another hour this evening only to be woken by an instant message since the sound on my computer was turned up.

On a side note that is completely non-sexist and non-sexual, I've always wondered what it would be like to walk around in heels. I'm watching Switch right now, and it seems that one of the biggest problems the main character is having from his transformation from a man to a woman is wearing heels. Is it really that hard?

And the adventure continues...

Apparently, I really was powered by caffeine over the past two days, since the 10 1/2 hours of sleep I got last night weren't enough, and I had to take a 2 hour nap too.

In other news, the Almighty PowerBook is finally on its way to me. Airborne Express says they picked it up from the place I ordered it from last night, so I should receive it on Monday. Okay, I can wait, I can wait, I can wait...

Who says nature isn't fun?

I'm seeing a resurgence of commercials for genital warts/genital herpes drugs on television. It's the usual "life is so much better now that I've discovered this drug!" commercial, with lots of young and athletic people running around having the time of their lives now that things are perfect because they've been healed by this drug.

The thing is, these people are proudly proclaiming that this drug has lessened their genital warts and/or genital herpes problems. Granted, they are actors, and my actor friends tell me that commercials are one of best things that you can get because they're played often all over the country and you get tons of money each time one is aired. However, would you honestly want to be possibly recognized for playing a person who's got genital warts or genital herpes? Suppose you're sitting in a bar somewhere, you're talking to a member of the opposite sex, you're having a good time and you're interested in this person, then your commercial comes on on the TV above the bar and this person sees you on TV proudly telling everyone in the bar and within the broadcast area that your genital problems are being cured by this miracle drug. Or you're dating Commercial Boy or Commercial Girl, take them to your company holiday party or out with friends, and your co-workers or friends tell your date that they vaguely recognize him/her...

Personally, I think I could be a proud shill for NinjaBurger. I mean, with a slogan like "No other fast-food chain has the Dim-Mak Death Touch," I'd be pretty damn proud if my commercial came on TV while I was at a bar.