You already know about my Friday night flight fiasco. I left O�Hare for home, ate myself a bowl of tomato soup, and went to sleep pretty early since I wasn�t feeling so hot. I ended up waking up at 1 and took the opportunity to wash my dishes, shower, and finish packing for my 9 a.m. flight.

I got up and to the airport without a hitch. I even secured myself a nice seat on the early-morning el, all of the way in the back of my car, in the single seat. I put the MP3 player on and silently jammed to my Britney workout routine.

This Asian couple got on and sat near me. They did made serious el eyes with me, but otherwise everything was fine. When we were almost to the end of the line, the sleeping homeless guy in front of them did the biggest stretch ever, and they had to dodge his outreached arms. I couldn�t help but laugh my really loud laugh. It really helped for a nice boost that morning.

Well, that and the Diet Coke. Whatever.

I got through security with no incidents and found a seat at my gate. All was going well, and then this family showed up. There was grandpa, his three sons, and all of their kids. Dalton was the youngest and in the second grade, and Carly was oldest and in the seventh. In anticipation of their flight to Texas, they asked their dad where they were sitting... Yeah, you guessed it! Little Dalton and Carly were on my row.

I called my mom to ask how she managed to not kill any of us kids while we grew up, and she suggested that I get myself a stiff drink. All right. So she didn�t actually suggest that. But I decided to hear that and went at the bar at 10 a.m.

Kidding, kidding. Even I�m not that big of a lush.

I told her about still being sick, and made comment that I took myself a pregnancy test and passed with flying colors.

�But I thought it was sex-free 2003?� she asked.

�Yes Maa, but �tis the season for people to have kids without sex involved.�

The flight went without incident. I sat next to Dalton and Carly, and they were generally pleasant. I broke up a little fight here and there, but it was still all right. Dalton shared his Junior Mints with me and kept cracking me up.

Carly whispered to him, and I asked if something was wrong.

�She�s just mad because the [fasten seatbelt] sign came on and now she has to poop.�

I thought I was going to have to steal him after he said that. There were plenty of other kids in their group, so I�m sure he wouldn�t have been immediately missed. He also looked a lot like a young, male version of me with brown eyes. I could have definitely gotten away with it. Oh well. I�m pretty sure the bars would frown on me taking the tyke out so late at night.

I landed in Houston for my connecting flight to Austin with plenty of time to spare. I got me some noodles for lunch and yakked on my cell phone, all happy that my flight was on-time and apparently ready to go.

Then, as I thought this happy thought to myself, along comes one of those airport carts. And wouldn�t ya know that it was full of old folks?

When the plane opened for pre-boarding, the flight attendants took each of these old people on, one-by-one, sat them in their seats, and buckled their hobbly asses in. By time those going through their golden years were strapped down and ready to go, actual boarding started an hour late.

I got a primo seat in the second aisle. But after glancing around, I wondered if it was common to seat handicapped individuals in the exit rows. I didn�t feel like waiting for them to move the passengers again to placate me safety-Nazi self, making me even later to Austin. I rationalized that if there was an actual emergency, I�d go out by the blind guy since he wouldn�t see me coming and was less likely able to stop me from getting my ass off that pressurized cylinder.

No incidents occurred, so all was cool.

I landed too dang late to go to the ballet, so my friend Sophie and I went to Target to spend the $100 in giftcards that I got for $70. I got the last of the Xmas present, some crackers to help with my continuing puking feeling, and -- OH YES -- the new Britney CD. We hit up one of my favorite thrift stores, where I scored some silver pants for NYEve, and then we got ourselves together for dinner that night.

We made a quick stop to the dirty girl store to embarrass our friend Gabe, and then we had quite the interesting dinner when Mick joined up with us. The bar tab easily tripled the food bill on $2 beers, and the rest of the night was dancing, singing, and promises of me making out with Sophie. There was something about a voicemail, the color combination red-green-green, and beavers. I have some disposable cameras that I�ll drop off at Walgreen�s later on, so I�m sure the night�s activities will come back to me.

I�m routinely told that the nights I�m in town are the most fun for my friends. However, the only difference I see between these nights and every other night I go out is that the beer is cheaper here and the bars close earlier. We�ll let that speak for itself, okay?

Sunday was the most beautiful day, much like so many Chicago summer afternoons. I tagged along with Sophie and a particular fallen angel to the hike and bike paths here to watch them pretend they were Spiderman and Spiderwoman and climb some rocks. I voted against risking my life and limbs, declining one man�s offer to get me climbing too, keeping my tush firmly on the ground and enjoying the weather.

The afternoon passed lazily, and eventually we all went our separate ways. I headed out with two other friends that night for dinner. I was made fun of when I said I stopped giving out my number and was interrupted by a ring on my cell from someone I had met in the airport. In my defense, it was a female with no lesbionic vibes sent in my direction; however, it was funny anyway.

I spent the night up north at Mick�s so I could be up nice and early the next morning.

On the elevator the other day I noticed that DIJA was up above 10,000 and cried myself a happy tear. Being a little young, I didn't have the opportunity to make my millions during the dot-com surge. I had myself a savings account with 10% of my little salary nicely stowed away, and I didn't get into making decent money until making 600% on your $tock dollar$ was looong gone.

So after seeing the War on Terror�s surge on the elevator's TV screen, I dug up my info and called my stock bookie for a meeting while I was in town.

[Yes, I call him my stock bookie. He prefers that to stock monkey.]

[Yes, I really did ask his preference.]

All went well with that meeting, and we discussed ways to make me a gazillionaire instead of a plain old millionaire. All should be fine, but do check back when I�m 59 � for a full report.

I shook Trey�s hand, thanked him for keeping my portfolio diversified and making 17%, and headed to central Austin for lunch with past coworkers I hadn�t seen in just about forever.

TK has apparently been working out, and she could obviously kick my ass. MK was sweet as pie (as always). Sophie was also there, and some other people I didn�t recognize came along too. Conversation was mostly between the four cool kids, and it was good to see them.

Afterwards I went to work. There�s not much to report there, but the people in the Austin office seem to think I�m a rockstar or something. After having been here for two afternoons back in August, I was still recognized.

Rockstar, I tell ya.

The evening was also loads of fun with my girlfriends and involved good Mexican food, margaritas, talking about making out with each other at slumber parties, and discussing who all we were making out with those days.

No random drunken makeouts to report in the past six weeks. I�ll keep you updated, although I�m pretty sure that I�m turning over a new leaf in those regards.

Spent the night at Sophie�s.

Damn this is getting long.

Right now I�m at work. The office coordinator seems to have him a little crush on you-know-who. He just went around with his digital camera and took pictures of everyone. Since I�m regarded as a rockstar, I gave my best rockstar face and let him snap a shot.

Yeah, I�m a dork.

I�ll leave you with that moment of Zen. �