The bar exam sucked ass.

That's really all I have to say about it.

        

So, it's good to be back. It's also strange to be back. This really is a habit of sorts, and this summer is definitely the longest hiatus I've ever taken from it, so getting back into the groove will take some getting used to.

Thanks you all for sticking with me, really. I half expected my small but solid readership to find new and more interesting ways to spend their journal-reading time and forget about me altogether. But you all stayed on my notify list and I even picked up a few strays over the summer, so I guess I had nothing to worry about, did I?

Right? You all are still here, aren't you?

Hello?

        

A very strange thing happened to me a few weeks back, and it just stuck in my head for some reason or another. It used to happen to me all the time, when I was younger, but it hasn't happened for the last ten years or so, so when it happened recently, I was quite stunned.

As background to this story: I think I've mentioned before that while I was growing up, my father (let's call him Jim Bob) was a fairly high-profile figure in Kansas City. As I've also mentioned before, we have a rather unusual last name (let's say it's... Rasputin. That's close enough.)

So I'm at the bookstore one night buying my Entertainment Weekly, and like a dork, I have no cash, so I have to use my debit card to pay my $3.20. I joked with the clerk about it, and as he swiped my card, he looked up and said: "Are you related to Jim Bob Rasputin?"

And I think my jaw actually hit the counter. See, that wasn't an unusual question when I was growing up here, when my father's job caused him to make short but regular appearances on television (and got him involved in a certain discrimination case filed by a certain anchorwoman). In fact, whenever I went shopping with my mother and she paid with a check or credit card, it was more unusual to not get that question. (My mother would occasionally deny it, just for kicks.) And whenever we went out to dinner, it wasn't uncommon for someone to approach him to ask for an autograph or just say hello.

But my father hasn't been in the public eye here for 15 years, which I would think would be enough time for him to drop out of the locals' frame of reference. And the clerk didn't look any older than I was, so I asked him how he knew who Jim Bob Rasputin was, thinking that maybe he had lived in my neighborhood or something, but he said it was just from growing up, seeing him on television.

It was strange. No one knows my dad from Adam in California or Pennsylvania, so I had pretty much forgotten that a stranger might remember who he is. I guess Rasputin isn't the kind of name you forget.

Speaking of which, there was a "Rasputin" on Millionaire last week, which was kind of exciting. Kay called to tell me about it, joking that we all had to be related, but the contestant wasn't actually from our branch of the clan. My sources tell me that Reege stumbled over the name when he was reading all of them off at the beginning, which was to be expected.

Believe me, when I get on that show, I'll make sure he says it right.

        

WARNING: X-FILES BLATHERING AHEAD. Read at your own peril of boredom.

Okay, so, I spent most of last night haunting my usual internet gossip sources, gathering the latest scuttlebutt on this whole Scully/pregnancy deal. And apparently, conventional wisdom is leaning toward Mulder as the father.

This is probably due in no small amount to Chris Carter, who has evidently been going around to conventions discussing the upcoming season and how viewers who felt cheated by the chaste New Year's kiss will have their "prurient interests satisfied," and the flashback scenes of Scully and Mulder creating the little tyke will "push the boundaries of prime-time network television."

I must admit, I'm not entirely convinced this is a good thing. Not that I wouldn't be bitter if it was Mulder's baby and we didn't get to see it happen, but we can point to any one of half a dozen series ruined by their male and female leads giving in to their sexual chemistry, my beloved Moonlighting being the notorious benchmark. On the other hand, since Duchovny will only be around for half of next season and then not at all, they might be able to get away with it, maybe, possibly.

I don't know. I just don't see how it will work. Besides, all viewers have to do to satisfy their prurient X-interests is jump into any one of a thousand fanfic sites and read their little Mulder-Scully "relationshipper" hearts out. (There's some really good stuff out there. Not that I would know personally.)

I also must admit that I'm extremely disappointed in the casting of Robert Patrick as Scully's new partner. Nothing against him as an actor, but I really had my heart set on Chris Noth. Sigh.

        

All right, you guys, just remember that I've been gone for a while, so it will take some time before these entries are back to normal re: both frequency and content.

But believe me, I am very, very glad to be back. I have missed you.