Ahh, youth. The other day, I pulled out my high school yearbook,dusted it off and took a short skip down memory lane. We all remember how proud we were as we carried our new book of memories around campus and watched as our friends and teachers scribbled those memorable little notes inside. Some of mine were: "You poor, demented little man" Love Mom. "Die a slow death!" Unnamed ex-girlfriend. "Who are you " Head Cheerleader. "Stop sleeping in my trashcan!" Your next door neighbor. But, I guess I turned out marginally sane except for the occasional talking canine and my fixation with DON'T LOOK IN THE BASEMENT! (It could mean 20 to life). And that, dear friends, is a good example of my life in the dweeb lane.