I told my mom what I really wanted for my birthday this year was to have my consciousness and personality and knowledge as it is now transplanted into my body as I was when I was six years old. You know, live everything all over again, correct the mistakes, buy Amazon & Yahoo & Microsoft stock when the companies first went public, that kind of thing. And despite the fact that I went to bed with a headache and woke up with one too and today is my 13-hour day at work, it's hard to not be happy and look forward instead of back when you're listening to this: Jimmy Eat World - "Futures" Right-click and save as, please.

Based on the drive back from Tucson today, I am now accepting bids from contractors wishing to assist me in my plans in mounting an anti-tank missile launcher on the roof of my car. It may not be stylish, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let the chickenfuckery I experienced on the road today continue. Some rules of the road under my administration: 1. If you're in the left lane, you have to be doing at least the speed limit. Especially if there are cars piling up behind you. And you're not allowed to pace the car next to you for an extended period of time. 2. If you're on a two-lane highway and you get into the left lane to pass a tractor-trailer, you have to make sure you're not scared of passing trucks. 3. You're not allowed to brake for no apparent reason at all. Especially if there aren't any cars in front of you. Disobey the rules, and suffer the consequences of the anti-tank missile. How will I be able to enforce this, you ask? I present to you this sample conversation: POLICE OFFICER: License and registration, please. And I'd like to see some kind of permit for this contraption you used to blow up that Pontiac. KEITH: Here's my license and registration, officer. And as far as a permit for the anti-tank missile launcher, well, I was boxed in and in the left lane, and the asshole college kids in the Pontiac in front of me refused to get out of the way to let me pass, even after I flashed my high-beams at them after several minutes of trying to get around them, but there was a car beside me so I couldn't change lanes. After I flashed my high-beams at them a third time and they gave me the finger, I had absolutely no choice but to make them... go away. POLICE OFFICER: Oh, I understand completely. Sorry for the inconvenience. Here's your license and registration back. Have a nice night. KEITH: Thanks, Officer! You too.

Forget for a moment that I'm Jewish. Forget for a moment the fact that I protest vehemently the fact that the Christmas season seems to kick off at Arbor Day. Forget for a moment that I can't stand it when the radio stations start playing all Christmas music. Forget for a moment that I willingly fled the Northeast and its snow and cold, and forget for a moment that for eight years, I lived in Boston and to this day still support the Red Sox, the arch-nemesis of New York. It used to be an annual tradition for me to go into New York with my parents around Christmastime. We'd walk through the streets that always seemed to turn into a natural wind tunnel, with the freezing cold wind whipping in off the East River that just cut through any jackets we might be wearing. We'd smell the scent of chestnuts roasting on an open fire on the sides of all the pushcarts that inevitably smelled about a thousand times better than they tasted. We'd battle our way through the throngs of people who are always on the streets of Manhattan, no matter what time of day or year it was. But, despite it all, there is nothing like it, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. The storybook windows at Saks, the giant frickin' tree at Rockefeller Center, the huge snowflake hanging in the middle of Madison Avenue, the way that FAO Schwarz was always done up. If someone were to ask me what my favorite place in the world is, I'd answer -- without hesitation -- it's New York at Christmas. It really is the greatest place on Earth. And I've been away too long. New York is in my blood -- my parents are natives, I was born there, and the accent still comes out when I get really drunk, tired or angry. It's written into my genetic code. I miss it like I miss home, despite the fact that out of everywhere I've lived, I lived in New York the shortest amount of time. And right now, I feel like I'd give anything to be back there, if only for a little while. Billy Joel - "Miami 2017" (live) Right-click and save as, please.

I still don't get how executives allowed Seinfeld three full seasons to gain traction in the ratings, when great, funny and intelligent shows like The Tick are cancelled after nine episodes and Sports Night given only two seasons before getting the axe while moronic garbage like My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss gets free reign. Has the term "quality television" become that much of an oxymoron?

So, it's 4am local time in Tucson, and I've just completed a 10-hour roadtrip (which doesn't include a 1-hour time zone change). I may be fried, but I'm also waaaaay overcaffeinated. So once I finish this post, I'm probably going to head into the den to watch Strange Brew until I get tired enough to sleep until sometime tomorrow afternoon. Er, this afternoon. Whatever. Things I Am Thankful For: From The Road - I am thankful for the fact that BMWs have those stupid signal lights on their side-view mirrors. Otherwise, I might not have seen until it was too late that the CHICKENFUCKER in the next lane over was attempting to change lanes into the very same spot I was in. And the bastard didn't even stop coming over when I leaned on the horn, I had to swerve onto the shoulder and slam on the gas to get out of his way. - I am thankful for the constant reminders that Jesus loves me and that I need to repent. Seriously. I saw literally nine billboards for Jesus -- he is just huge in the desert. Even though I was unaware that Jesus was a commercial entity, I suppose it beats the vasectomy billboards I kept seeing when I drove through Arkansas last year. - I am thankful for Jimmy Eat World's new album, Futures. Go buy it. Now. I don't care that it's Thanksgiving -- your favorite music store may be closed, but Amazon is always open. I listened to that disc three times on my way out here. It's that damn good. - I am thankful for Starbucks and lots and lots of Diet Coke. - I am thankful that in the desert, no one can see you pee. - I am thankful that I will live to post another day. And with that, g'night all. Peace, love & donuts. Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving. Gobble gobble, bitches!

The insane amount of just life and stress happening right now has caused me to feel like someone has isolated me from the normal space-time continuum and accelerated me to warp speed while keeping everyone around me at normal pace. I guess that's kind of why I constantly feel like A.D.D. boy and I'm having problems concentrating on things, plus because my brain is whizzing on high, I occasionally can't form coherent sentences because my mind is working faster than my mouth. Which is not so great, especially since I've always been a good communicator and I like to come off looking at least moderately intelligent, y'know? That said, despite the stress that comes with seeing my parents, I am pleased as punch to be getting the hell out of Los Angeles and spending at least 8 hours each way screaming through the desert at high speeds with just me, the Silver Bullet™ (that'd be my car) and the radio. It's like free therapy. A happy Thanksgiving to all. If you're headed out on the open road like I am, here's some Southern-fried rock music for you to drive to. Right-click and save as, lead-footers. Silvertide - "Ain't Comin' Home"

Too much caffeine + not enough sleep + instant gratification tendencies + hot-button issues not getting solved (or even addressed, for that matter) = Keith going out of his goddamned mind today.

This weekend, I: - Failed to pay any of my bills like I promised myself I would - Failed to do a load of laundry, but then realized that my parents offered the use of their free washer & dryer when I visit for Thanksgiving. I can blow those quarters on Pac-Man, woo hoo! - Drank every single night this weekend. Yes, even Sunday night. Sunday night, I drank the most out of all three nights. - Probably made a bad first impression on a friend of a friend who I wanted to impress. I e-mailed my friend yesterday to get her number and still haven't heard back. And no, the alcohol wasn't involved in that debacle, I was well and sober while making my bad first impression. - Got signals from a female friend that she might be interested, which were noticed and commented on by others as well. Friend then declined to act on them. - Didn't sleep enough. - Worked out with weights for the first time in months, and I am now a wee bit sore. - Should've valeted the car on Saturday night, but my friend who I was driving and I are vehemently anti-valet, but neither of us saw the "residents only" sign we parked near and I wound up with a $40 parking ticket. - Had "The Hustle" by Van McCoy stuck in my head for the better part of three days. I've also been listening to The Pixies a lot lately... I don't know why, but I thought I might share with you some of my favorite selections. Right-click and save as, punk rawkers. The Pixies - "Gigantic (12" Version)" The Pixies - "Wave of Mutilation" The Pixies - "Where is My Mind?"

Okay, so I just finished watching The Shining for the first time ever (hey! No comments from the Peanut Gallery!) and within 10 minutes of finishing the movie, I've already seen two pop culture references to it. In other news, after watching that film late at night by myself, is it any wonder my insomnia's kicked back in?

I am a golden technological god! Well, I have helpful friends who make me a golden technological god. First off, special thanks to Skits, the bestest big sister an only child could ask for. She told me how to fix my templates to correct the problem. And look! The problems have been solved! Now I just have to update my damn Amazon wishlist because I haven't touched it in a year. The second part is that I finally stumbled across the program on my hard drive that allows me to do audio editing. I thought I'd have to go out and buy a $500 program, but I already had the damn thing, and I'm already teaching myself how to use it! If I weren't so tired, I'd be screaming for joy right now. So now, enjoy the initial fruits of my labor -- I edited this section out of another track, and now it stands on its own comedic two feet. Yay! Right-click and save as, balcony-dwellers. Statler & Waldorf speak!

Nothing can be more frustrating than a stupid machine that overthinks for you. Which is one of the reasons why I hate Microsoft Word -- it keeps making corrections that I don't want made, and I don't want to stop in the middle of things to search through to find that particular auto-correct to turn it off. One time, Word tried to rewrite an entire sentence for me because it didn't like it. Screw you, Bill Gates, I like my sentences just the way they are! Either way, I'm having some issues with my index page. First, you may observe that little "you missed my birthday" link over to the right. Folks, you didn't miss my birthday. My birthday is a month from Sunday. However, my web page keeps forgetting that I reset the clock to this year's birthday and it keeps resetting itself back to last year's date. But more importantly, I attempted to put some links in my sidebar that showed up last night... and then promptly disappeared this morning when the clock reset my birthday back to 2003. Two questions: 1) What's causing this, and more importantly, 2) how the hell do I fix this before I go ballistic and put an axe through the computer? Can anyone help me? Argh. Angry music needed. I feel like Movie Frankenstein. RRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Collective Soul - "Heavy"

About eight or nine years ago, the band Collective Soul saved my life. I'm not talking spiritually or anything like that -- they literally saved my life. I was taking one of my usual long late-night roadtrips and was about 10 minutes away from my destination... needless to say, I was pretty damn tired. And, despite the fact that it's the only time it's ever happened, I fell asleep at the wheel. Luckily for me, the radio was on (as usual), and the station I was listening to happened to be playing Collective Soul's "Shine." The guitar riff just before the chorus hit, and my eyes flew open -- and if they hadn't and I had continued on my course, I wouldn't have followed the curve in the road and I would've impacted on a concrete beam holding up an overpass while going around 70 mph. Tonight, I got to tell that story to the band's lead singer, who wrote the song, and then hear them perform it live.

So the gas company came this morning to relight my pilot light on my heater so I have heat. The problem is that they gave me a window of 7:30am-12 noon that they might come by, and the field workers don't carry cell phones so they couldn't call me when they arrive. I work way late on Tuesday nights, so I tend to sleep late on Wednesdays, and I knew that if the gas company person just knocked on my door, I probably wouldn't hear it if I was sleeping, and I waited two weeks for this appointment. The doorbell is plenty loud, but the problem is that following several applications of paint to the building, my doorbell button jammed up with paint. So last night, I tried to free up the button. No dice. As a result, my doorbell was ringing randomly all freakin' night. And it didn't even do the complete ring! It would ring halfway and then wait a while to let me get back to sleep and then the other half would sound randomly later. 3am. DING! 3:45am. DONG! 5:05am. DING! 5:30am. DONG! You get the idea. By 8am, I was so paranoid and tired, I was running to the front door at the slightest noise to see if that was the gas company. Either way, the holiday season has apparently officially begun, despite all of my efforts to keep it contained between Thanksgiving and Christmas. So, here's my little contribution to it all. Right-click and save as, you holiday bastards. New Found Glory - "Ex-Miss"

So, this will pretty much sum up the weekend that I just had with my parents. Let me preface this by saying this visit was the first time they'd been to Los Angeles in about 10 months and it was the first time they'd seen my apartment furnished and decorated. When I woke up this morning, my apartment was empty because my parents left at 6am to beat the morning rush hour in L.A. and the afternoon rush hour in Phoenix. They left a note on my kitchen table. The top part was from Mom. She wrote: The apartment looks great! It was so great to see you and we love you very much and can't wait to see you in only two weeks for Thanksgiving! Love, Mom. Underneath that was this from my father: I forgot to tell you before -- you're grinding your teeth in your sleep again. Aren't you supposed to wear a mouthguard for that? The problem is that I can't bear them any ill will, especially not after the day they had today. When my phone rang at around 3 this afternoon, I expected it to be them saying they were home safe in Tucson. Instead, they were calling me from Blythe, California, which is just outside the Middle of Nowhere and on the California-Arizona border. Here's a map to give you some idea of where they were -- the star is where Blythe is. Seems that 15 miles outside of Blythe, which is officially the Middle of Nowhere, their less-than-2-year-old, less-than-20,000-mile Honda Accord threw a rod, which went straight through the engine while it was going 80 mph, resulting in a very loud BANG and the subsequent destruction of the engine. So they had to sit and wait in the Middle of Nowhere for AAA to dispatch a truck from Blythe to tow them into town, where they were told they need to take the car to a Honda dealership because the engine is completely destroyed and they need a new engine. The hell of it all is that not only is the nearest Honda dealership 65 miles away, but when they rented a car from Enterprise, they were told that Enterprise doesn't do one-way rentals and they'll have to return the car back to Blythe. At least they got home safely, but I find it ironic this happened only a day after my dad said, "Hondas and Toyotas are the only cars that are quality-made these days. If you treat them right -- like we have -- they'll last you a quarter of a million miles without any trouble."

I survived the weekend. Mom & Dad are both asleep and will be out the door before I wake up to go to work in the morning. It was great to see them, but I like seeing them in small doses. Especially when the final hours are spent receiving the most intense lecture of the weekend regarding How Keith Should Be Living His Life™. And I'd like to think my parents are exceptionally smart people -- they both skipped 7th grade, they both were in the Regent's program in New York (which is basically Gifted & Talented), my dad graduated medical school and they gave birth to me, someone who is not mentally shabby (if I do say so myself)... but then there are moments like this conversation I was dragged into on our way to dinner on Friday night: Dad: Have you ever been to that Persian restaurant? Me: No. Dad: What kind of food do they serve? Me: Uhh... Persian? Dad: Is their food good there? Now, I feel the need to do some rockin'. A weekend without music (because my dad hates the music I listen to and claims it gives him headaches, even when I'm playing it at volumes I can't even hear... and I have exceptional hearing) has frayed my nerves. Right-click and save as, homequiches. Oasis - "Acquiesce" The Cult - "Sweet Soul Sister (Rock's Mix)" Secret Machines - "Nowhere Again" Pearl Jam - "State of Love & Trust" Bush - "Bubbles" Fuel - "Jesus or a Gun"