Get me Jack Bauer, immediately

One of the many inconsistencies I exhibit is that, though I appear to be easily classified as an UBER Amazon (Urban Bohemian Entrepreneurial Rogue Amazon, coined by brother in the force Mark Melo), I'm also a fighter and a patriot.

This oddity would be the fault of my biological brother, for teaching me how to read on his 1970s Avengers comic books. Which is why my speech is sometimes peppered with gems like, "We will follow you through the gates of hell, but you must lead us." (No, not Cerberus fetched from Hades by Hercules in Greek mythology...but I believe Iron Man imploring Captain America to Assemble).

If you follow the logic line, you can actually discern how I would get from Avengers to Greek mythology to La Femme Nikita to 24.

But because love knows no logic, it is with sad heart that I report I am now off the market forever...as Jack Bauer has taken residence in my heart.

He of the soulful blue eyes, kept promises, beautifully scarred hands, and newly weak stomach, has crawled onto my lap for eternity. I run my fingers gently through his perfect hair and we stare at the mushroom cloud that is Los Angeles and softly whisper "no"...

Oh, I may enter into a loveless marriage that I escape from late at night with my 24 box set. I may bear progeny that are all named Jack; gender be damned. But always in the back of my mind, no matter what hellacious domesticity I am trapped in, I will really be on the freshly mown grass of a shitty Valencia suburb, rocking my broken hero in the cradle of my arms.

As always, check Blogs4Bauer for the latest Bauer Kill Count.

Oh, and lest you think this not be posted by Lis Effin' Fies, Socialist whose first boyfriend was Persian, here's the latest cost of the War in Iraq.