Yesterday was a day for emotional drainage, I’ll tell you what. The fun stuff: Poppy had a 3-D ultrsound and invited me to come along with her, the hub and fam. My (childless) verdict: I highly recommend them to all the preggos out there, if for nothing else than to see your child 1) not do what the tech wants, such as stop hiding her face behind her hands and knees, and 2) flip everyone off in a very subtle way for even suggesting she listen. Seriously, though, we were all awed by the moving and the cuteness and stuff. I’m glad she let me come along for the ride. I still say, however, that what the tech called “lost data” on the sprog’s cranial region is actually a head full of dark hair that has been causing Pop hellacious heartburn, and that baby’s going to come out with a Fraggle poof. Betcha a dollar.

So after all that excitement, I watched Flight 93 all the way through for the first time. My first reaction: The only reason this is up for six Emmys or whatever is because of the subject matter, not because it’s fantastically acted or put together or anything. That, though, didn’t make it any less difficult to watch, and I found myself completely wrung out and fired up at the same time—wrung out because it brought back my day that day (a meaningful day in my life for various and sundry reasons), and fired up because I found myself wanting to fuck with some terrorists. Seriously. All I could sit there and think was, “The actions the passengers took that day—regardless of how many lives they ended up saving by diverting the plane from its target or whether the plane was already going down because the terrorist pilot was a dumbass or whatever—really put a wrench in the terrorists’ plan, and I SO would want to be responsible for that should I ever be on a plane overrun with the pigfuckers.” Saving hundreds of other people? Yeah, ok, whatever. That’s great. I want to make sure these fuckers die failures.

So all you terrorists out there, take note: Y’all ought to be real glad I don’t travel by air often, because should we ever get stuck on a plane together? You’re going to have to kill me first, because I’m going to make your mission a living hell to execute.