I hate asston kutcher.

I hate ashton kutcher. I've never really liked him, and I'm not sure why. He irritates me, I guess. Then he did that stupid punk'd show, which I never watched, but still hate. Now he's doing Nikon commercials, acting like some kind of super photography buff. Fuck him. He's not a buff, he's a guy with a contract. I'm a Canon user, so I sorta have anti-nikonian feelings anyway, but seeing that douchnozzle chimping a $1000 camera at a wedding like he was hired by the couple pisses me off. Sorry, I just hate him. Plus he stole Demi Moore from Bruce Willis. That was Bruce Willis's Demi Moore! They were supposed to be together doing goofy movies forever! And you fucked that up, asston - you fucked it all up.

Odd.

So, I've always said we're adventure-prone. Not accident-prone, adventure-prone. We go on a trip and wind up doing all kinds of weird and neat stuff we never set out to do. Like this time. We had stayed out of town, and Rebecca was feeling ill and not up for the ride home, and I was really tired, so we wound up staying at a hotel in Tulsa so we could get some sleep. So the stay was just a hotel, until the morning. I'm downstairs gathering some breakfast items for the family, alone, and this enormous gentleman with an impressive afro sauntered in wearing a not-at-all conspicuous red track suit and carrying a duffel bag with a red white and blue basketball in it. I was making a bagel, and a motherfucking Harlem Globetrotter had just walked in for some yogurt. A Harlem Globetrotter. in Tulsa. Oklahoma. At a Holiday Inn Express of all places. Wildkat Edgerson was making a yogurt cup look really tiny while I was slicing a bagel.
His hair is taller than I am.
I went upstairs and told everybody of the weirdness, and life resumed as normal.
The we were checking out, I was packing our stuff into the trunk, and who should step out of a comically small SUV, but Wildkat Edgerson Globetrotter, of the Harlem Globetrotters. I said "Hello, again." and he went inside where he saw the twins and geeked at them.
A famous person has gone all googly-eyed over our babies.
So he gave us some autographs and stuff and went inside. Then we leave and we're at the gas station, and Joshua is talking about the room keys I gave him to the lady stocking the shelves. I mention he had met a Globetrotter not 30 minutes previous, and he was chatting about hotel room keys. The lady asked "which one?" and turned out to be eerily informed about the globetrotters.
I had apparently just met Wildkat's best friend or biggest fan or something.
The likelihood of meeting someone with that much information about the Harlem Globetrotters in Tulsa, on the same day that I had randomly run into one of them, is fucking bizarre.
Like I said, adventure-prone.