I gave up on Monster Blood Tattoo; I loathe the truly pathetic attempts to capitalize on everything awesome about the truly great works of fantasy fiction (structure from Harry Potter, language-smithry from Tolkien, parallel worldism from Lyra) as though something new or interesting will come out of the blender-parts of the achievements of the past. Synergize, people, don't just homogenize. Ain't brain surgery. So instead, I'm reading The Indiana Jones Handbook. Which is crappy in an entirely different set of ways but is at least entertaining, especially given all the veiled "the crystal skulls are from aliens!!!" references. It's sort of like The Worst Case Scenario If You're Indiana Jones. I am learning how to pass under a moving truck, how to cut a rope bridge in half (if only I'd known 2 weeks ago!), and how to survive poisoning by a bloodthirsty Chinese ganglord. Given the poor pedigree of the book's writing, most of these involve "well, do the best you can, I guess." Which, to be fair, is probably how Indy approaches life, too.

I never bought The Worst Case Scenario If You're Batman (or whatever it's called). Wish I had. I imagine Batman has a number of seriously worst-case scenarios.

Hey, in the good news, I suspect the postal tag that arrived on my doorknob yesterday is actually my Raiders jacket, back after a 4-month sojourn in its home country of England. Words cannot express how much I've missed having this thing, and how much airplane flights suck when you're not wearing it. It's the all-purpose awesomegarment. Hats are for jerks: jackets are where the real adventure-wear lies.