In an attempt to alleviate the stresses that come with working, and fighting off an impending chest-cold, I turned to the whimsical comedy stylings of the first season of The Big Bang Theory (Thanks, Mom!). At first I found it relaxing, a soothing substitute for the work-a-day blues (plus, they say laughter is the best medicine), but the more I watch, the more I fixate on the irrepressible fact that I am the big bang theory, only less funny. Yes, it is true that I do harbor the fun-loving, quick-witted, nice-guy of Leonard Hofstadter, but I also find myself Walowitzing more than I’d like to admit. If you happen to be a beautiful woman, you will not have heard me go off on a passionate, albeit pointless, explanation of the latest scientific study, or technology, that I just read about, because, without alcohol, my Koothrappali will not let me express my inner-Sheldon.

It’s sad, really. I’m a popular sitcom without the popularity, but all of the neuroses… and, yes, I do mean all. Who doesn’t have a little bit of Penny’s pretty-little-princess inside them?

But, alas, none of this matters, because I just saw a guy walk by my apartment in Washington State, in the middle of winter, 90 miles from the ocean, carrying a surfboard… what the hell is wrong with that guy?

Okay, I feel better now!