One of those weeks...

This has been quite a week. Monday, I got in a car accident. Tuesday, Johan Santana was traded to the Mets. Wednesday, the prettiest and my personal favorite presidential candidate, John Edwards, dropped out of the race. Thursday, the Oceanic 815 survivors split into two camps on the island. Friday ... well, nothing has gone wrong yet, unless you count the fact that I have to sit in my windowless office for eight hours.

There are two ways to proceed from such a series of events: One, I will drink this weekend. Two, I believe next week will be better. Let's be honest, both are inevitable.

So Monday, I was driving to work and some idiot SOB changed lanes into me. It was my first real car accident and, as some might say, it scared the semen out of me. (When I was 18 I rear-ended someone back home in MN, but I don't count that because my car was worthless and I was stupid). We exchanged insurance info, and when the man and his BS crazy wife drove away, I discovered that I'd locked my keys in my newly dented car. Luckily, a kind man named Beto from the nearby transmission shop jimmied open my door. Anyway, I've spent all week dealing with insurance crap and trying to sort out what I should do with my dented but drivable car, while also cursing the man in the Impala (who, to avoid litigation, I will not name).

Moving on, Tuesday was another bum day when I found out that Johan Santana, the pitcher for my beloved Minnesota Twins, was traded to the Mets (that's right, I follow sports). Although not notoriously dominant like some sports teams, the Twins are always good, and they've been particularly strong in recent years thanks to players like Santana, Mauer, Morneau and the now traded Hunter and Jones. We'll find someone to replace Santana, but I don't really get baseball trades in general. I know this isn't how the game (or life) works, but I feel like there should be a stronger sense of loyalty between players and teams. Perhaps even, dare I say it, love... But between the ginormous paychecks and rampant drug use, I think love left the game a long time ago.

After coming to terms with the trade, I awoke Wednesday to news that the dashing and inspiring John Edwards was calling it quits. Though consistently lagging in polls and fund-raising, I thought Edwards really stood a chance. He seemed like the most logical choice for the democratic nominee, but was brushed aside for the more novel celebrity candidates. I went through the normal stages of grief (denial, anger, punching my boss, passing out drunk, acceptance) and even wrote John a nice note on his web site. I think now I'll be an Obama backer. I can't get on board with any Republicans, because I can't vote for anyone who supports staying in the Iraq Cluster F---. I also pretty much despise shady Hillary. Thus, I'm left with Obama, who at least has taken a page out of Edwards's populist handbook.

Thursday was really not terrible. I'd been looking forward to more "Lost" since the trippy season 3 finale last May, and thankfully the season 4 premiere was great. It left us with more questions than ever (who else is in the Oceanic 6? was John with Jacob? who's on the freighter?) but that was expected. I really hope they get the damn writers' strike wrapped up, not so people can go back to earning a living but so that I don't have to wait even longer for more of the wild and crazy "Lost" antics.

For a downer post, this was certainly lengthy. Luckily there are only about 2 or 3 hours left of the work week. And -- brace yourself for some amazing news -- the Save the Sexy bloggers will be reunited this weekend in Los Angeles. Fun times, revelry and perhaps some illegal activities will surely ensue.