I’m not dead. The fact that this post is here is strong evidence that I am alive. I suppose someone could have killed me and begun impersonating me on the Internet, but seriously, how crazy and paranoid are you? Jesus, get a grip.
I was in Boston and then New York for a week with Devon on his business trip. While Devon was in training, I tooled around Boston doing my best to cripple myself, which I accomplished pretty successfully by repeatedly ramming my foot into uneven pavement. I managed to not break anything, because I maxed my CON score when I created my character, and holy shit, I think I lost even some of my hardcore nerds with that one, but if you were looking for the opportunity to chase me down and steal my shit, you missed it. Your window is closed.
Unless you work for the TSA, which managed to steal our shit on both legs of this flight. Denver International Airport stole Devon’s Leatherman, which he’d forgotten in his bag, and LaGuardia stole a jar of my friend’s homemade peach jam, which should be in my belly but instead is sitting somewhere in a TSA facility, or in some TSA asshole’s belly, which makes me even more pissed. Devon might get the Leatherman back. We’ll see. But the jam, sadly, is gone.
I’m glad we spend $8.1 billion a year on the TSA. While they’ve never caught a single terrorist, at least the country is safe from my friend’s peach jam.
While I was in New York, my family and friends gave me a baby shower, which was awesome and I can’t say enough nice things about the people who showed up (and the people who wanted to be there but couldn’t for various reasons). I mean that sincerely. I’m not always a dick.