Reality continues to ruin my life.

That's a quote from Calvin and Hobbes.  I've been on a C&H kick lately, but even so I truly believe that Calvin may be the most relatable human I've ever come into contact with.  Never mind that he's an irresponsible, irrational and not to mention completely fictional six year old.

Speaking of relationships, I was in the library a month or so ago pulling off the god-knows-what-number all-nighter of my collegiate career when I realized something about how I value relationships.  If you've ever met me, heard about me, or even read a few of these blogs, you know all too well that long term commitment is not exactly my shtick.  I'll be the best damn friend you've ever had, but for the most part when it comes time to actually commit to something, I'm out of there faster than Usain Bolt on a Ducati.  Anyway, what I realized is that I do actually form deep bonds with people, it's just that those people never actually know it.  Actually they don't even know who I am.  For example, whilst in the library I was sitting at a large table studying/trying not to cry, and a small foreign male came and joined me at my table.  He was there for just over an hour, and not once was there a shared word, moment of eye contact, or any interaction whatsoever.  But for some inane* reason, when he stood up to leave, I was distraught.  Don't get me wrong, I did absolutely nothing to act on this, because that's just not how it works, but I legitimately felt sad.  Maybe it's the hour we spent together in suffering while doing a mutually hated activity.  Maybe I'm just batshit crazy.  Either way, whenever this situation occurs I always want to say something because I feel like we've been through so much together.  "Good luck in your future endeavors my scholarly companion.  I will never forget you."

*No, that was not supposed to say "insane", and yes, "inane" is a word.

A while ago I tweeted that I if I had a daughter I was going to draw Ed Hardy and Tapout shirts on all of the evil characters in her book so she'd grow up hating them, and the more I pay attention to the people in today's society the more I agree with that idea.  Now I'm not saying that I'm perfect*, but some people just take it to a hilariously awful level.  Earlier today I was grabbing food at Chickfila because why the hell wouldn't I, and I saw a girl wearing essentially nonexistent pink booty shorts that said "angel" on the back in glitter.  Now I'm not saying it's out of the realm of possibility that this is a perfectly wonderful human being, but if that's the case, her halo is broken in three places and probably doesn't even glow.  Or maybe Heaven is just full of sluts.**  If I have kids, and God-forbid a daughter, she will only be allowed to wear Snuggies until she’s 40.

*I'm perfect.

**Please don't kill me God.

I've been traveling a lot for the past.... well, 24 years, and I've noticed a lot of things about plane flights.  Lately I've been only flying Southwest, partially because of the two free checked bags, but mostly because they have my soul and if I'm going to pay them the equivalent of one vital organ per month to settle my credit card debt, I'm going to get some damn travel points for it.  Anyway, for those of you that haven't flown Southwest, they do a kind of free-for-all style boarding where you aren't assigned seats, you’re assigned a boarding number based on who checked in first, so when you get on the plane you can basically choose whatever seat you want.  This results in a couple things.  Firstly, you've got to be early so you can claim the armrest.  I've already got a 6 year old demon in the seat behind me, I'll be damned if I'm sitting with my arms awkwardly crossed on my lap like a nun for three and a half hours.  Secondly, once you sit down you’ve got to become an animal in the wild.  After you get to your seat, make yourself look as big and intimidating as possible so nobody wants to sit next to you.  And as far as choosing seats, there's always the battle of "Do I take the middle seat in the third row or do I take the window seat halfway back?"  Here's some advice:  Always take the window.  Always.  I don't care if it’s in row 327 and you have a connection that leaves almost immediately after this flight lands, middle seats are never worth it.  Sure, those people look civil now, but as soon as you take off, you're going to realize that you’re stuck in the middle of two strangers that probably have the worst tendencies known to man.  One of them is probably fat, and with great fat comes great body odor.  The other one, based on my research, is either extremely old, racist, and snores louder than the jet engine, or the compulsive talker that will Never. Shut. Up.  Also, if there’s a window seat, take it.  The window seat holds all the power.  "Oh, you're going to keep annoying me? Well guess who DOESN'T get to see the Rockies anymore??  And because I’m me, every time I fly I always imagine what would happen if the plane were hijacked or we went down in a crash.  It's like an extremely morbid recurring daydream.  I don't get scared, mind you, it's just like I'm watching a quick movie that I'm starring in.  I just hope if it ever actually happens I go down as a hero or at least remember to turn to the person next to me and say something witty like, "Great, now I'll never make my connection in Phoenix."

Update:  I live in Colorado now.  More on that later.

Fact of the Day:  Bananas are slightly radioactive.

Shout out to Hailey Williams.