Sometimes I watch The West Wing to get excited about my own job. In a sad, sad stretch of my overexuberant imagination, I like to think that the staffers on that show are in some way similar to me in my day job. I’m wrong, of course, but sometimes it helps me feel charged about being a handler.

Then again, sometimes it just depresses me. Why can’t I work for Martin Sheen? My mom saw him in the airport once. She was heading back to Billings whence…I don’t remember. Martin Sheen was at a neighboring gate, checking in. Mom just sat there, but another passenger from her flight went running up to get an autograph. It was this woman who works in a consignment shop in Billings, and we’ve always thought she was weird beyond words. She always call my mom and me “girls” when we shop there, which just pisses me off. Dude, my mom has been 49 for the last 6 years…she’s not a girl. And quite frankly, neither am I. Whatev. Anyway, Crazy Consignment Lady runs up to Martin Sheen to get an autograph, but doesn’t have any paper (aren’t we in an airport? I love that the Delta people just stood there and didn’t offer anything to write on) so she pulls out a book and has him autograph inside the front cover. Except it’s not just any book, it’s her Bible. From now through the end of time, her progeny will cherish the Martin Sheen Bible.

Remember when you thought you could get pregnant from kissing? Thank heavens that was totally wrong.