This blog would be more interesting if I led a more adventurous life. I know that. I just don't seem to be carrying the adventure gene. It's one of a whole teeming mob of desirable genes that were bypassed way back when I was being assembled. The closest I've ever come to an adventure was in 2006 when I was mistaken for a terrorist (I hadn't shaved that morning) and was subjected to extraordinary rendition. They ruled out taking me to Egypt, since I had already started confessing to stuff, and settled for Belgium. They put me in a Comfort Inn (yeah, they have Comfort Inns in Belgium! Go figure!), in a room with only one double bed. Once they determined that the lack of a mini bar wasn't going to break me, they exposed me to a procedure they called Spit-Taking, in which they made me drink a glass of water, and then in the middle of a gulp, told me a funny joke. The resulting coughing and choking was excruciating, and I confessed to everything I could think of. By the time I had gotten down to the time in fifth grade where I had let Gwen Miller copy my answers on a Problems of Democracy test, they decided they had gotten all the useful information they were going to get, and

No, I didn't have this adventure either. I told you, I don't have adventures. Just trying to beef up my readership. Have you seen my comment figures over the last week or two? Pathetic, except for the pcb header. Maybe I should design her a new header every few days. But what kind of life is that?