The Zero Hour

Every single program I've watched tonight was about death and/or the End of the World. It really got me thinking. We get so caught up in this rat race that we never quite remember to really make the moment count. There are so many people around here that deserve to know how much they mean to me.

If today were my last day on the planet, I would make sure to be wearing my ear flap hat. I would put on my garter belt and stockings, my hottest bra, a short skirt, and an inappropriately thin white tank top. I would then act the same as if I was wearing a snow suit and roll around on the ground and make angels of some kind, even if I had to use dirt.

I would tell you that exchanging emails with you makes my heart sing. After your brush with death where I saw you hooked up to numerous machines, frantically trying to scribble notes on a notepad to no avail, each electronic word is a gift from the big JC.

It recharges my inspiration tank when I picture you reading this column every Saturday morning, cup of coffee in hand. When you tell me how much you loved it the next week, I swell with pride.

Our lunches in Silverlake and yummy homemade cookies at famous people's houses serve as the perfect backdrop to conversations that I need to keep my sanity and compassion for the world alive. I adore your curly hair but don't understand your love of running.

When we laugh together, I realize that there isn't much more to life than that sound. Then, I realize that there is more, actually--like when you tell stories about the naked people you passed on the way to the Starbucks that morning or people who accidentally pee in their own suitcases while sleepwalking.

Every time I see your face on TV, I remember the time that you couldn't sleep because ants kept crawling in your ear while you were in the sleeping bag on the floor at our friend's house. You still went out to get donuts with me even though you were exhausted and were twiching at each imaginary ant still near your aural canal.

When I see you onstage, making people laugh, it makes me so proud I feel like bursting.

Watching you play with your daughter gives me hope for the future.

Each pearl of wisdom you throw my way between the lunges and the bicep curls makes me a better, smarter, stronger person.

The times you searched through my closet for a Halloween costume at the last minute while still managing to scrounge up something hilarious was a joy to watch.

I loved watching movies and drinking 40s with you on your couch.

There was nothing like coming home from and honest day's work and barbecuing with you guys. That beer hasn't tasted as good since.

Our hikes are the only reason I like going outside on some days.

From movies in the graveyard to filthy documentaries, no one does movie night like you. And those rolls! To die for!

Filling your dorm room with balloons on your birthday was THE ONLY good thing that came from bringing Patch Adams to the big screen. I remember how much fun we had shoving them aside while you opened your gift, which was an inappropriately large vibrator. In school colors, nonetheless.

I've never enjoyed staring into someone's eyes as much as I do yours. I've never slept as soundly after doing it, either.

You make text messaging fun.

It is next to impossible to have THAT much fun on the Metro. You outdid yourself on that one, kid.

You were the master of surprises and always made me understand that I was on your mind more than I let myself believe. Thanks.

Muffins and conversation with my dearest, darlingest wife. A perfect, self-improving evening is what I call that.

Let's go skydiving and then play with your dog.

Remember when we snuck into that rehearsal hall after they were closed, ate some ice cream, and then spent hours trying to figure out how to get past of all the locked doors? I learned many things about illegal behavior that night that I treasure to this day.

Thank you for loving me.

Now let's all pray that the bomb inside the World War II reenactor won't explode, or that those underwater creatures won't disturb the Earth's core enough to create MORE natural disasters and wipe us all out. Put those hands together and hope karma is real and that men and women can exist in harmony, etc. And also throw in a clean tank top for me, too.

kiss. g