52 Weeks of Wordage

There are always those movies that, when you watch them for a second (or third, or fourth, or fifth... I think you get the point.) time, you are once again in love with the story, the characters, everything about it. Bridget Jones' Diary is one of those movies for me. I could watch it 50,000 times, and it would never get old. Her adventures-- or, better put, misadventures-- in romance are ones that women, even me, dream of. Now, I'm not one to particularly scream out from the rooftops that I'm a hopeless romantic, but... What can I say? I am. I see a good chick flick and fantasize about the best scenes happening directly to me. I picture myself as Bridget Jones, and Colin Firth is telling me that, despite all of my flaws, he likes me just the way I am. I close my eyes and have a little daydream starring yours truly running after my love in a pair of "genuinely tiny knickers," a pair of tennis shoes, a camisole, and a cotton hoodie worried that he might leave me f…

I'm driving along I-40, and as I near my exit to turn onto Fessler's Ln., I notice a blinking sign on the side of the road that reads as follows, spelling error and all: "FUGITIVE SAFE SURRENDR NEXT EXIT." Naturally, I get a little worried. Is there some serial killer loose near my apartment? Is it safe to take the exit toward my apartment? It also doesn't help that about a week ago I heard a definite gun shot followed after a few minutes by police sirens close to my apartment. That made me feel really safe. Awesome. I called my dad, and he said that they're doing this new thing where they're creating safe places for fugitives from the law to "surrendr." I guess I understand that, but... It still makes me feel a little uneasy. Why choose a mere 4 miles away from my apartment for criminals to turn themselves into the law? I mean, don't get me wrong. Good for them for making that choice to accept the consequences for their actions, but I want …