By BEN GRABOW, Scripps Howard News Service

Wait a minute. I'm actually going to settle down in the town where I grew up. How can this possibly be happening? (Shock)
I was going to get out of here by plane, train or unpaid internship. After college, there was nothing I could imagine worse than living within 30 minutes of my high school. And now here I am, buying a house.

As the cars come into view, their drivers offer no hint of emotion. The passengers, however, can hardly restrain themselves. They lean from their windows, eyes wide, tongues lolling. The wind whips joyful slobber across each sedan and wagon door.
These cars are headed for the dog park.

Your eyes seem a bit tired. You've lost that pep in your step. A single strand of drool has escaped the corner of your mouth and come to rest on your return key.
Perhaps you're not getting all the sleep you need.

Your eyes seem a bit tired. You've lost that pep in your step. A single strand of drool has escaped the corner of your mouth and come to rest on your return key.
Perhaps you're not getting all the sleep you need.

Do I look tired? I bet I look pretty tired. Our little guy keeps us up. We hardly get any sleep some nights.
We try to keep him out of the bedroom now, but that doesn't stop him from looking for attention. I mean, we know better than to expect him to sleep through the night, but really.

Do I look tired? I bet I look pretty tired. Our little guy keeps us up. We hardly get any sleep some nights.
We try to keep him out of the bedroom now, but that doesn't stop him from looking for attention. I mean, we know better than to expect him to sleep through the night, but really.

So it's finally happened -- the ax has fallen, the parking pass has been rescinded, the pink slip has found its long, circuitous way via interoffice mail.
Welcome to the growing ranks of the newly unemployed.

You are not Irish.
You, with the green beads, and you with the shamrock face paint -- I have bad news. And you, with the Irish tattoo? I have very bad news. Come, set down your stout and pull up a barstool. I'll try and make this as painless as possible.

When I was first learning to drive, using a manual transmission seemed to be some sort of Amish logic, like forgoing a sewing machine in favor of a loom.

Ben would like to be your friend.
Ben found you using the "people you may know" tool, the "classmate finder" widget and the "generally just stalking you" application. Click here to accept the request.
Ben is now your friend. You have eight new messages from Ben.