Editor’s note: I was going to lead with something along the lines of celebrating by going out and buying a few brand new AK-47s and other high-powered assault rifles, but Matt beat me to the punchline. Bastard.

That’s right, I’m still breathing, folks. Ridiculously out of touch on what's been going on in the world - painfully behind in my research on archaic IBM typewriter fonts that may or may not disprove the authenticity of those papers.

And no, contrary to popular opinion, I’m not hunched over a $10 minimum blackjack table in the Monte Carlo, working my way out of a hole, eyes bloodshot, hair disheveled, cigarette in hand, burning through my fifth consecutive pack. Somehow, I summoned an inner strength I never knew I had, and kept due north on the 15 – tears welling in my eyes as I watched the Stratosphere tower grow smaller and smaller in my rearview. Vegas, we hardly knew ye.

(please give me a moment – I’m getting emotional just thinking about it)

Bow-wow-wow yippie-yo yippie-yay Dickie C in tha muthafucking hizouse!

Am I your Caucasian?

Well it’s Monday in Chicago and I decided to bring the LA weather with me. Funny, I didn’t realize you could do that…if I had, I woulda landed here a lot sooner! I’m still getting situated in my new digs. It’s a great big ol’ brownstone on the northernmost tip of the city, sharing with two other roommates. Somewhat isolated, but thus far worth the Lake Michigan view out my window and the park right out my door. Parking’s an unexpected issue. Every time I find I spot on my street I feel like I've won the lottery, and then I start to sob uncontrollably for feeling like I've won the lottery over something as simple as a parking spot.

It’s the little things, people.

The other issue is getting to/from the “L” after sundown without getting mugged, shot or led around the corner and raped. Yeah, east of my north/south street it gets real sketchy, real fast. For any locals familiar with the city, two words: Howard Station.

And the last issue I’d like to officially bitch about before moving on is that I had to put Cronkette on a plane home last night. She made the drive out with me – we made good time and had a few days to spend before we start this year of long distance with monthly weekend visits and/or holidays.

As you can imagine, yesterday was really, really fun. Let’s leave it at that.

This week I’m sitting comfortably in the eye of the hurricane, unlike those unfortunate folks getting blown off the Island of Cuba. I’ve got a week in between the craziness of the move, and the craziness of school starting. So let’s take a few moments to review what I’ve learned in my cross-country trip:

Yes Virginia, there is a way to drive past Vegas without stopping. I know I already covered this, but I don’t think you fully comprehend the significance of me driving through that town without stopping. Maybe this is just me expressing a painful tinge of regret, I dunno.

Utah is, well…really, really nice, actually! Who knew? I sure didn’t. It really does look like Mars – a fun drive as you weave through all those plateaus or mesas or whatever the hell they’re called.

Colorado – probably the most scenic part of the drive, winding through the Rockies, passing spots like Eagle (a.k.a. Kobe Bryantville), Vail and Denver. So naturally, it’s a good thing we hit this part of the country in the middle of the freakin’ night.

(One second, I need to bash my head against the table. Okay, thanks.)

Wait a minute: Pete Coors is running for US Senate! Pete Coors is running for US Senate? Did I just write that out loud? Oh well, not that I’m one to talk – my home state elected the Terminator. But still, imagine my shock when I turn on the motel TV and see Pete Coors in a commercial out in the snowy Rockies - you know - the usual, but then instead of hawking delicious banquet beer he goes into a friendly rant about lowering taxes. It’s a trauma I hope none of you has to endure.

Oh, and there’s this whole vast eastern side of Colorado that’s flat as a pancake in every direction for hours. Like, it might as well be Kansas or Nebraska, and yet it encompasses half of the quote, ahem, “Rocky Mountain” State. How come you never hear about this? I was not aware, and by hour 3 of Flat Colorado I was starting to feel duped. I would not be surprised if there was some sort of tourism-motivated conspiracy/cover-up. Flat Colorado feels like that bitter and jaded punk teenage son the parents ask to stay hidden up in his room while they have company over. Which brings us to…

Nebraska. [shudder] Drive quickly through Nebraska, do at least 90. Stop a couple times for gas. Note the sharp spike in, um, patriotism among the locals. See the caps on sale: Harley Davidson, Corn Huskers, and the nearest baseball team – the Colorado Rockies. Let’s just pray for the good people of Nebraska, and leave it at that.

Iowa: 1. Rolling green hills. 2. Farm Silos. 3. Repeat steps 1 & 2 for about 3 hours. That’s Iowa.

Actually, I’ll add one little detail to Iowa. Outside of Des Moines there was this billboard that read Jesus: The Adult Super Saver. Of course, this made no sense until we passed a giant “Adult SuperStore” a half-mile later down the highway.

Ah. I get it. Apparently Jesus had a problem with sex toys.

Anyhow, I’m in desperate need of a haircut. And a shave. Yes, I am truly a site to behold.