"I'd give up my pride to save me from being alone."

Oh, no... the above line from the ill-fated hairtastic duo that shall not be named (unless you name them, of course!) can only mean one thing...

A long-awaited rendition of Silent Karaoke: College Nostalgia Edition! (Mind you, Silent Karaoke is a further testament to my inability to transition between either songs or thoughts.)

"She's figured out all her doubts were someone else's point of view. Waking up this time to smash the silence with a brick of self-control... Are you locked up in a world that's been planned out for you? Are you feeling like a social tool without a use?"

"So I wait here for an answer, and wonder if tomorrow will be like yesterday. I keep holding on, but can't go on living this way..." (Sorry, couldn't help that one, either. And yeah, so what if it should technically be in the High School Nostalgia Edition? Leave me alone!).

"I know too many people unhappy in a life from which they'd love to flee. Watching others get everything offered, they're wanton for discovery. Oh my brother, my sister, my mother, you're losing your identity! Can't you see that it's you in the window, shining with intensity?"

Okay, that last one made me want to call Patterson so we could go down to the Graham Cracker and get ourselves some 72-ounce frozen yogurts. Recognize!

Ah, forget it. I'm wiped. I'm going to bed.

And by the way, Willem Dafoe is still scary-lookin'.

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This is unacceptable.

Back off, ladies! I called "Dibs" before you got out of your training bras!

Just kidding. Your sign is very clever. Hell, if I were in school right now, I'd probably be sporting something similar.

But, seriously: Back off.

Go Gators!

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Mmm. Caramel Cone.

I have no idea why I'm shoveling spoonfuls of this stuff, since I should be keeping Botanicus relatively empty in anticipation of reaching critical mass by tomorrow evening. Boy, I'm a moron.

And I know I said something earlier about continuing the story from my previous post in this one... but as I'm shoveling Caramel Cone in my mouth, I have not the capacity at this point. Sorry. Maybe sometime in the near future, when I'm sure nobody's looking.

Yes, I'm that paranoid. Leave me alone.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

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"I'm becoming like everybody else... And I'm strangely elated!"

I can't wait until tomorrow is over. Any three day workweek deserves my excitement and praise. And copious amounts of pumpkin pie.

So, I am really craving bananas right now. Just thought you'd like to know.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, whilst I was less-than-enjoying the oniony aftertaste in my strawberry parfait (it was so disgusting, I'm not even kidding), I was also taking in the eye candy.

I was at Beef's with Danhole, the Corporate Warmongerer Formally Known as Francois of Hoggetowne, and Sarah (the one Dan describes as "Jibber Jabber Sarah," due to her impressively rapid and expressive speech patterns), watching the ill-fated game that I refuse to talk about. After that last sentence. So there.

Anyway, as is customary with any Gator game viewing at a local sports bar, attractive men posted up at the bar, and we just happened to have a booth that was not only next to the bar, but near one of the larger teles showing the game. Sarah and I, rather strategically, happened to be sitting on the side of the booth that not only gave us optimal view of the game, but quite a view of the cuter, younger male Gator fans as well. Never mind the fact we had our backs to the crap-ass Annual Bowden Bowl, Sponsored by Depends Undergarments. This was going to be wondrous!

And wondrous it quickly became, as Sarah and I spotted an absolutely pleasant-to-look at gentleman wearing an orange and blue Gators pullover (plus one), khaki shorts (plus two), and Reefs (plus three, at least in my book).

To paraphrase Mr. Herbert the Pervert from FG, it must've been my birthday!

I was going to summarize the next set of events so as to minimize my own humiliation. Somehow, I find I am hard pressed to do so at this very moment. So, I'm going to leave it alone. At least, until tomorrow.

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Limes are in season.

So, already watched Alias, and am very excited for the next new episode in two weeks, since it'll be...

THE RETURN OF THE LIMEY!

Well, he's not technically a Limey... In fact, I'm not sure what Sark's nationality is supposed to be, but whatever. He's going to do horribly inappropriate things when he comes back to the show. Makes me giggle.

In lieu of posting another picture of David Anders, let me post a picture of an actual, verified Limey:


I know I've posted it before, but it's so cute; he just looks so eager!

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Not enough Creamsicles.

The "family size freezer box" of Creamsicles in the freezer has mysteriously dwindled to near nothingness in the past week. I don't know who to blame, but someone is going down. My money's on Mario; must engage immediate countermeasures.

Wow, can you tell I'm getting ready to watch me some Alias?

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Company picnic.

Well, an "Employee Appreciation" picnic, at least. I can't remember ever having a job that had such a thing. Oh, wait, yeah I can; but it sucked, so it doesn't count.

For some reason, I can't stop imagining what the Employee Appreciation Picnic might look like for those folks who have the job listed a couple back...

I spent a good portion of my time during commercial breaks this evening putting iron-on letters on the back of the shirt I'm supposed to wear to this picnic (small price to pay for being able to wear shorts and sneakers to work). I won't go into detail about the almost perfectly straight letters I put on that shirt. Suffice it to say, I didn't find iron-on numbers of "1" and "2" to go with them that were large enough for my liking. Oh well. At least I'll get to throw a football at people's heads tomorrow.

I'm motivated. Let's do this!

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"Kisses over catfish and cocktails."

The above, my friends, is a prime example of the artistry the Cheaters team renders on their scripts. Color me impressed. Well, not really.

Today was one of those Office Space days. I have not yet given in to the impulse to bring a drill to disassemble my cubicle walls, but I find it very difficult to hold back on gutting fish on all the correspondence I have to do. I swear, I feel oddly accomplished after finishing a big stack of letters, just to turn around and find five hundred more in their place. Miserable jackals!

Oh, and speaking of "disassemble," remind me to tell you one of these days about the kid I'm going to seriously start calling "Johnny Five." Moving on, then!

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The best job ever?

Yesterday morning, as I was recovering from my old-age meltdown, I spoke to a friend about what they were planning on doing for the day. My friend, who shall remain nameless for the time being (and you'll figure out why), told of a plan to spend the morning landscaping, as a venture out to Lowe's earlier in the morning resulted in the purchase of many plants.

This friend then lamented on how landscaping is quickly becoming a new (and apparently expensive) addiction. We then joked about how at least it's better than sporting a crack habit, and how a landscaping addiction would probably make one have to find supplemental income to support it.

"Sounds like you're going to need to find a second job," I said. "But what kind of job can you get?"

"Well..." (brief pause). "I could get a job holding dicks."

(Crickets chirping in the background)

"Yes. Yes, I guess you could. Good on you!"

Now, you can see why I refrain from putting names here, so as to avoid embarrassing somebody's Mama.

Not my Mama, of course.

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Recovery.

I am currently recovering from a day of extreme highs and lows, better known as yesterday's Vandy game. The hours leading up to the game were enjoyable and nostalgic, save for the mosquitoes the size of your head that decided to bite me 31 times (I'm not even kidding-- I counted). The game was wondrous and majestic, at least until the whole double-overtime debacle. And even then, it was gloriously nerve-wracking.

All I know is, I'm getting too old for this shit.

I'm hoping to post some pictures and short video clips I shot during the game some point this week. That is, if I can fish through the clips and find the ones where I didn't shake the camera violently in celebration, thus ruining the shot. This could prove difficult.

Before I forget, I must send out mad props to Lil' Pimpin' Jim, who hooked us up with the piping hot pizza that Danforth and I gratefully burped up for the rest of the evening. Next time we're in town, Jim, we're feeding you!

We're just not exactly sure with what, yet.

Anyway, today I started paying for yesterday's tomfoolery. Since I spent most of my tailgating time chucking the football with the entirely wrong throwing mechanics (throwing with too much force and using my entire body in the follow through), and I climbed up that fucking hill from Shands to get to the Swamp, my body hurts. And for some reason, probably because I slept weird or craned my neck oddly, the right side of my neck is stiff and hurts like a bitch. I actually find myself sitting here with a hot water bottle, watching Cold Case and being comforted by Rileybot.

Seriously, I think I'm turning into Murtaugh.

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"Where is my bear poop?"

So, Halloween has come and gone, and Riley had a successful trick-or-treat outing. Pictures may follow later this week, if I am so inclined.

Pretty damned good weekend, considering the outcome of Saturday afternoon into the evening. Crazy-ass Tony Hopkins be damned! Oh, and this may never get old:

The looks on their faces just says it all, really.

Then, I was treated to an extra hour of sleep that night, and despite waking up to my shoulder absolutely aching, I rolled over, grabbed my cell phone, and was greeted with the lovely news that South Carolina beat Tennessee, in Knoxville, on the day they retired Peyton Manning's number! Viva technology!


Inscription on plaque: "Danny Wuerffel's picture will be in a place of honor at Neyland Stadium, considering how much he felt at home here during his collegiate football career."

I love those crazy Photoshoppin' goons!

Now, I don't know what to think of those "custom" uniforms that Nike had the boys wear for the game, but I do know I did enjoy the look on Mr. Leak's face throughout:

Perhaps Chris just got a glimpse of the "Florida Shocks Georgia" sign. Or maybe he's just stoked about scoring a touchdown. Take your pick.

Anyway, all this photo posting is wearing me out. I'm off to catch up on my SVU. Go start a Fortune 500 company Go Gators!

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