Alfred & Stephen King

I think Google changes my login info every time I log out. I love that there's a little warning box each time, like my own personal butler, Alfred, to tilt his head and "tsk, tsk" me each time. "Oooh...are you sure that's the password you want to enter? *cringing face* It's not what you typed in last time. *whispering and leaning in closer* I'd try something else first, if I were you." (I think my Alfred may be gay.) It would be more useful if he'd just remember the password for me.
It's cold. Again. I'm thinking of making the inflatable bed a permanent part of our living room arrangement. We'll all just recline while we eat and hang out, like the ancient Greeks and Romans. I think we could make it fashionable. Speaking of which, I think we should go back to dressing like them as well. I feel like the last few decades have spewed themselves back onto the shelves in some sort of awful, mismatched assortment of ripped jeans and tie-dye and flannel and leg warmers. I'm not really sure what's going on there, but I don't want to be a part of it and Miley Cyrus can't make me. Though, Alice in Wonderland is cool again and quite frankly, I'm more than a little excited about that.
The books got the best of me yesterday and I've had trouble putting them down, just as I knew I would. I love Stephen King for so many reasons (and I won't go into all of them, or we'll be here for hours) but the thing I love the very most is that he is the only author who uses the intro as a chance to have a conversation with his "Constant Reader" (an especially un-facied up conversation with profanity and vulgarity when necessary) and update you on the goings-on in the King household and whatnot and then includes all his notes about where he was and what he was doing when he wrote whatever it was. If I may steal your opening, Mr. King, in Just After Sunset he concludes the intro with this:
"And now, let me get out of your way. But before I go, I want to thank you for coming. Would I still do what I do if you didn't? Yes, indeed I would. Because it makes me happy when the words fall together and the picture comes and the make-believe people do things that delight me. But it's better with you, Constant Reader. Always better with you."
How can you not love this man? Reading him makes me want to write, and writing nearly always leads me straight back to reading. It's a vicious cycle.