damn Heather. reading that actually made me feel better about my life. and for that, I owe ya one.

hang in there, don't go postal or anything, no matter how justifiable.

So long as I don't get stuck on the plane with someone completely touched in the head like the lady seated next to me and said bad jew friend on our last return flight who decided that when we reached cruising altitude was the perfect time to whip out her tits and milk herself, I should be fine. Like a good friend, I just put on my headphones and watched a movie while he quietly sobbed. Hey, if I didn't pay attention to it, the crazy isn't really there.

Wow, Heather, you need a Purple Heart medal.

No, it's just the trade off for all the good stuff in life that I get. I need a certain amount of insanity in my life to be happy. I may well be subconsciously bringing it all on myself. But that doesn't mean I won't go intoscreaming fits about it and wish death or people on the morons who cause it, or the good I could do for society if only I was given a dart gun full of depo provera and a license to use it. Besides, if I had a nice quiet uneventful life, I'd probably kill myself.

Several Jewish friends and I used to do what we called our "Korean seder", where we'd go for a nice Korean dinner and try to figure out the symbolic (Passover or otherwise) meaning in all the strange pickled dishes they bring out before your main course.

Same dude, at the age of thirteen, decided it would be fun to terrorize his little sister's gentile friend who wanted to come to passover out of curiosity by scaring the crap out of her about opening the door for Elijah. I really wish I remembered exactly what he did, but I couldn't stop laughing the whole time about his threats of "Elijah's gonna get ya!" But he's also developed a recent fascination with Catholicism. "Not because I believe it, but the pageantry is impressive."