For those of you who don’t stalk me on Twitter or Facebook, yes, I have graduated, yes, I did get an iPod nano as a graduation gift (Goodbye, crappy old CD player!), and yes, I am at the Oakwood Apartments in Los Angeles, California, home of the slicked-haired sunglasses-wearing suited executive who is so out of touch he thinks YouTube is a brand of swimming pool floatation noodles and yet somehow has the power to greenlight “2012”. (I, personally, have not met this guy yet, but I’m sure he lives around here somewhere.)
I flew in, departing from Hartford early Monday morning (meaning I just missed the JoCo/Paul and Storm concert that everybody else on the entire internet attended, from Wil Wheaton to Felicia Day to Al Yankovic), changing planes in Dallas, and arriving in LA in the early afternoon. Because I couldn’t exactly annoy you all via Twitter during the flight, I instead took notes to share with you all at a later date.
My friends, that later date is today. You’ve all been warned. Continue reading