[Actually, there are a lot of good things about a three-hour drive between you and your folks. Namely, they�re far enough away not to make any surprise visits, yet they�re close enough when the shit hits the fan. If anything were to happen to me, it would now involve a three-hour plane ride (not including the two-hour check-in time and the security waits) and an hour-long train ride before finding my house. It would be even worse if I have to give someone directions to a hospital since I�ve yet to find one in this city. If I�m bleeding out from an Ebola infection I catch while drunkenly gallivanting on the west side of town, I�m SOL.]

I have tickets purchased for a trip at the end of August. I figured I�d be a little late getting there, but I didn�t anticipate my arrival time being an entire month off. I looked on Travelocity -- home of the greatest last-minute travel deals ever -- and found that I can get weekend airfare and a hotel for $350. I�m debating whether or not to head to Houston this weekend, knowing that I�ll be there soon and that everyone there is running around like circus clowns minus the floppy shoes, starched collars, seltzer bottles, and face paint. (Screw the chicken imagery. I don�t want to think of headless chickens.)

It may be best if I keep my distance and let the family settle before I uproot everyone and make them accommodate me.

Slaves -- Come pick me up from the airport!

Do you have anything meatless for dinner?

How in the hell do you turn this TV on??!!

I'd rather slap a bumper sticker on my ass and hitch-hike to knitting camp.

And don�t get me started on that satellite browsing thingy. If you leave me alone for ten minutes, you�ll come back with four picture-in-picture screens showing Bulgarian mud wrestling, that episode of �I Love Lucy� where she stomps the grapes, anime, and some pay-per-view featuring the Girl�s Gone Wild spring breakers. Beneath the international sporting event I couldn�t give two craps about, the only episode of �I Love Lucy� I�ve ever seen played on Nick at Nite, some cone-boobed cartoon chicks kicking some ass while inducing seizures in some cocker spaniel in Massachusetts, and the barely-legal smut, is the episode of Jackass I�m trying to watch since I haven�t had MTV in over two years and didn�t get enough of it during my youth.

That, and I haven�t gotten enough of that Johnny Knoxville. Ttttthhhhhhhuuuuurrrrrr!

Anyhow, here I sit at 6:30, still pretending to work, trying to get as many hours in as possible since I want to go to the Cubs day game on Thursday, wondering how my baby sister is doing. She had quite a morning, so I�m going to give the family a call now.

Go hug your brothers and sisters if you live near them, and feel free to give Mr. Knoxville my email address. There�s enough of my sweet ass for him and Justin to share. �