Good Deed of the Week
When I entered my morning coffee shop on Tuesday, it was bright and sunny. When I left three minutes later the skies had let loose a violent, torrential downpour. I stood dumbstruck under the shop's awning, gazing forlornly at my car up the street, when suddenly a kind angel with a bubblegum pink umbrella appeared from the mist. Insisting on walking me across to my car, we smiled at each other, cursed the crazy weather, and she ushered me safely into the dry warmth of my Golf. How I love my little neighborhood!

Gross-Out of the Week
When I got into my cab at SFO last night, it smelled really funny. I'm not sure if I felt better or worse when the smell went away a few open-window minutes later.

Heartfelt Sign-Off of the Week
We're heading back east tomorrow for The Third Annual Bryan-and-Allyson Tri-State Tour. There's no photos of New Jersey from last year, but honest, we go there too.

Happy holidays to all ye good Bloggers and good Blog readers!

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

And it was certainly very, very loud.

Once upon a time, in a late 70s America of weekend custody, excessive trips to the zoo and way too much McDonald's, I became a New York Jets fan. I cheered with delight the questionable quartebacks, the one-eyed receivers, and the sizeable Sack Exchange from the time I was just a tot. I made Dad proud each and every Sunday. In fact, by the mid-80s, my biggest crush was on erstwhile QB Ken O'Brien -- I have the scrapbook cutouts and the beat-up plastic action figure to prove it. I've been a green-and-white girl for as long as I can remember.

On this past Monday night, December 2, 2002, I was not a Jets fan.

Fickle? Fair-weather? I beg for your consideration.

Squeezed into the very last row in the very far end zone of Network Associates Coliseum, flanked by two Raiders fans in head-to-toe black and silver, beers in each hand, 300-pound frames quivering with Raider love, Bryan and I hooted and hollered and whooped as if we'd toughed the streets of Oakland all our lives. I mean, this was the clear choice! For if I'd worn my Wayne Chrebet jersey, as many who came before warned me against, I surely would've suffered the same fate as the woeful Jets fan four rows ahead. His plight inspired this little poem, tentatively titled: Prayer for a Jets Fan.

Lone Jets fan
In a seething swell of gray and black
Please!
Ignore the insults
The threats
The obscenities
The peanuts.
I worry for your green jersey,
Your green hat
And your little green Jets-fan-in-training.

Don't worry, the Jets lost. Hooray!

I'm waiting for the taxi to come take me to my 7:05 flight to Seattle and all I can say is: I really don't understand people who (willingly) wake up before the sun rises. It's plain insanity.

As Heather so aptly put it: It's a wee WildWeb reunion!

Eric is cool because he's a great blog writer, devoted Buffy fan, TiVo convert and overall good guy. In town for a conference, he, Heather and I enjoyed some tasty food last night and talked about the good old days, the demise of Internet content and of course, our former coworkers' current whereabouts.

Plus, we took some pictures!

This morning I got an e-mail with the title, "About Lance Bass." It was empty, and I was really disappointed. What about Lance Bass, anyway?

Last night I was at a birthday party for a dear and sweet friend who knows a lot of smart people. Also in attendence were famous authors, aspiring filmmakers, well-known columnists and assorted other creative success stories. It's the sort of gathering that makes you feel inspired, depressed, inferior and superior all at once. I mean -- I doubt anyone else at the party enjoyed a day full of TiVo on Friday! Sometimes it's nice to blissfully believe that all of life's questions can be answered in 44 minutes of Dawson's Creek. On the other hand, I'm sure I'm just trying to console myself.

Actually, my favorite part of the whole evening was when one of the aforementioned web-celebs thought my leg brace was part of my pants, and complimented me on my (and I quote) "industrial chic." Of course I had to admit that said brace was medically necessary.

Have I mentioned that whole torn ACL thing yet? I have an MRI scheduled for Thursday, which really makes me wish I didn't watch so much ER.

I hate it when I'm forced to mention TV shows twice in one blog.