Ah, the last three weeks, they have been eventful. From the last few entries, you'd barely know it, but I went home to Chicago on December the 17th and didn't get back to Los Angeles until Sunday, the 5th. From the last few entries, you'd know all too well that I managed to alienate and enrage segments of the D'land community. And finally, what with my lack of writing, you wouldn't know that a whole new segment of my life begins again with my return to LA.

Yes, I have found Christ.

Well, not really. But I did find myself praying when the turbulence on my flight back threw a flight attendant to the floor and caused a fellow passenger to actually levitate up into the air of the cabin for a long moment. In my prayer, I requested that I either a) not puke, or b) die quickly, but not both.

My requests were met.

First things first though. After the big Unfunny Practical Joke Fiasco of Late 2002, some people expressed sadness that no commemorative t-shirt would be available. I think I could whip something up, but wouldn't you prefer a soundtrack? Songs can include:

"You Left an Entry in My Guestbook (But a Hole in My Heart)" (country ditty)

"We Can't IM Anymore" (sad ballad)

and "Bill and Jonny Think They're So Great, But You Know What? They're not! They Suck and They're Dumb Boys. Still, Though, They Are Kind of Cute, Right? Hee!" (Japanese hip-hop radio edit)

Production shall begin immediately.

As for my trip home, I spent about 60% of it hanging out with Sally. We've sorted things out, and I think I can say now that we're finally ready to close our account and cash in our chips on this pseudo-relationship thing we had going. It was a great last few weeks, a worthy send off, a lot of fun, but we are both resigned to the idea that we can't keep this up.

Maybe again someday, but for now and the foreseeable future: finito.

The other part of the trip, I hung out with my mom and my brothers. Mom and I managed to take in a few movies. My brothers and I managed to bond over videogames and bizarre Christmas presents.

My cousin "Mad Dog" Dave, always a source of family fun, presented to my brothers and I a set of fold out knives. The blades were about three or four inches long, but the pommels were the most exciting aspect of the gifts. Some of us recieved knives with lovely watercolor paintings of Native Americans riding horses through the unspoilt pre-whitey landscape (during sunset, of course). Other knives featured a tasteful tribute to the heroes of 9-11 on the handles.

I promised myself I would only participate in the most patriotic of stabbings.

My knife now rests in a plastic bag thrown in a corner of my mom's basement along with other Christmas gifts we unceremoniously dumped there out of sheer feelings of "What the hell are we going to do with this crap?"

Warm fuzzies abound at the Momma FadeIn residence.

It's always a smart idea to give the Gift of Blades to a person you know has to get on an airplane in a few days.

I thought that security was going to be tight on the flight back. I had heard horror stories of every article being scrutinized, now that the Scour Through Every Dang Bag law is in place. They didn't even look at my stuff after they X-Rayed it, which annoyed me, as I took the trouble to scratch the labels off of two particular videotapes I rescued from the stuff I left at home.

I'm pretty sure I can still tell which one is 'Special Roommates' though.

Speaking of wild sex, I met a few Diaryland Chicagoans during my trip, but my (ok, ok, non-sexual) encounters with each of them deserves a seperate, as yet unwritten entry.

So, now I'm back in Los Angeles, applying for jobs and trying to figure out what the next step is going to be. It feels somewhat exciting, somewhat new again. I need to find a job that makes me happy, though I'd also love to start some as yet undetermined entrepeneurial venture.

Emu farm?

As a result of the gut I have managed to accumulate during my last few months in residence here, I have made but one New Years Resolution:

2003 is the year of Much Less Pie.