Alright, alright. New post. But quick - I have steak fajitas calling my name.

First off, I totally called the flash-forward on last night's Lost finale about halfway through the episode. And to anyone who hadn't seen it, well, HA!

(Dewey, JD^2, B&G and I had a lengthy email discussion this morning trying to determine when something officially no longer constitutes a "spoiler," after Dewey ruined Lost for JD^2.

We could only manage to agree that our nation's spoiler laws are broken, and we need comprehensive reform legislation.)

Which reminds me - It's a surreal existence when one afternoon you're chatting with Ann Romney at a Republican country club event, filled with all the American flag paraphernalia and older wealthy caucasians one could ever desire, then wake up balls-early the next morning to chat with Mexican day laborers trying to feed their families on $300 a week.

Any situation I walk away from saying "Damn, I'm rich!" is a bad, baad scene. Alright, I smell fajitas. Excuse me.