I'm going to go ahead and go with a self-interview format now, because I've written a lot in the last two weeks, and I'm a bit burnt out.

Q. Hey, John. How are you?
A. I'm good. Sometimes I get really tired, but then I think about my poor little brother, Hank, who has spent three days shuffling from airport to airport in a quixotic quest across the Western United States. Poor Hank just wants to go back to his adopted hometown of Missoula, Montana, but apparently there is too much fog in Missoula, or the fog is too icy, or something.

Q. But couldn't the whole problem have been avoided if Hank had moved to a city like Chicago, where the airports are world-rennowned for their efficiency and ease-of-use?
A. Well, yes. But Hank is an environmentalist, see. And Chicago doesn't have any environment.

Q. Okay, what's the deal with that ridiculous Fischer-Price-My-First-Beard you've got going?
A. Well, I grew it out for superstitious reasons while I was working on the revision, the way hockey players don't shave during the Stanley Cup playoffs. But I'll shave it soon, I swear, because I know it looks ridiculous.

Q. That's encouraging. What about your fatness?
A. The fatness continues to be something of a problem, yeah.

Q. You look kinda pregnant. Honestly.
A. Yeah, I know. Oh shit. I hope I'm not.