We're already wet, and we're gonna go swimming.

I know, it's been a while since I've posted a lyrical blog title, but I still have 13 Going On 30 on the brain from a few weeks ago. You'll have to forgive.


I have often found myself doing the same thing. Except without the really expensive dress. Or the bod. Crap.

Anyway, I've been spending the last few weeks thinking about blogging, so that should count for something. I've been otherwise occupied with trying to say my age without coughing uncomfortably, threatening to burn couches at a moment's notice, and fiddling with blog and MySpace layouts. Seriously. You know it's sad when I get all jazzed about changing the colors on my template and renaming everyone in my Top 20, and I still don't do dick about posting.

I should probably take a hint from Lisa and keep the MySpace layout simple. But the colors are so pretty!

Jesus, this dry spell is getting annoying.

Anyway, I managed to get through the birthday with thankfully little fanfare. I got some nice gifts, one of the greatest of which was a picture frame with four Gator Football photos: one of Tebow flying into the end zone, one of Reggie Fuckin' Nelson breaking shit up during the Alabama game, one of Urbs hugging Chris Leak after the MNC, and a black and white one of just Chris Leak. Ben did an awesome job of picking out the photos. I'll have to post a picture of it here later, so you can view it in all its glory.

I'm all over the joint, as usual. I can't focus for shit. This is probably why I can't put together a sensical post. My head is starting to hurt. I'm going to go drown my sorrows in a glass of milk and a few Peanut Butter Creme Oreos. Don't fucking judge me.

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Getting antsy.

So yes, I could have spent the evening ogling much Prison Break goodness, or doing something otherwise productive, but instead, I chose to fidget with my blog template settings. What do I get for my troubles? Oh, the inability to have my comments posted correctly, as well as a stiff neck (couldn't find the headset for the phone while I was doing all this).

But, I did get that cool picture thrown up there.

I'm a genius!

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Delaying the inevitable.

I know. I know. I've been MIA ever since the National Championship game. Suffice it to say, I watched the game, lost my voice by halftime, and took the next day off. I didn't even really get my voice back until I went back into work on Wednesday.



Because after all, victory... is exhausting.

Perhaps a more complete photo retrospective will be forthcoming. We'll see.

For now, I'm going to go dabble with this layout. Back in a bit.

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I would be mad, but I can't be.

I had this wicked long post (with pictures) late, late Saturday night, after I got home from the evening's festivities, all about the championship game. It was exceptional. It was moving. It had pictures of stalwart football players.

It, for some reason, would not save on Blogger. Fahk.


"What do you mean, it won't autosave? Bastards!!!"

It's just as well. Posting it now means you'll read it in the order it was meant to be read, or something. Let's get to it!

I ended up at a tree-trimming party where, thankfully, the hosts were Gators, and the game was on the screen large. It saved me the trouble and tackiness of sneaking out to the car to listen to the game on AM. (Which, actually, I was doing on the way to the party for the first few minutes. I truly do prefer to do this even while watching the game, since the commentators usually covering our games --I'm calling you out, Verne!-- make me want to shriek violently in protest. And you don't want that.)

We started out well; Hetland actually made a field goal!

Poor, embattled Chris Hetland. When Mick Hubert announced on the radio that it actually went through the uprights, the collective reaction was "Holy crap, he made one???"

Then a little while later, my boy Chris Leak hurtled his hot ass into the end zone!

Please, no R. Kelly songs here.

And he managed to do his best Elvis while there.

That, or he was about to Fosse. It was really up in the air.

Follow that with the halftime update that UCLA beat USC, and you get the following:

That's right. A restroom full of male Gator fans, alternately shaking off, high-fiving, and washing their hands. And of course, the men's restroom would have complete coverage of other games. So, it was apparently like Joe and Suzanne's wedding, but with less good eats and just as much of Jim throwing gang signs. Word!

Of course, upon hearing this, the Gators immediately go into their nearly-patented Third Quarter Slump, which I will no longer dignify with mention at this point. In fact, thinking about it makes me not want to, so I will go ahead and leave it to the fellas at EDSBS to fill you in on the rest.

Hell, they're addicting, and they have even been so kind as to post another picture depicting "premature echompulation" and some priceless YouTube clips (not to slight our special teams highlight, but your shit will crack up when you hear Percy referring to his "buddy" Dallas about 45 seconds into the second clip).

But before you go off to read EDSBS goodness, let me leave you with the following:


I said it's GREAT...


To BE...


A FLORIDA GATOR!



Thank you, Gators. You have been crazy, frustrating, electrifying, and inducive of cardiac fits all season, but you've always come through, and you've done it with class. You represent the very best of the Gator Nation, and I know you will continue to do us proud in a month!



Now, I'm off to go calculate how much postage I'll need to ship myself to Glendale in a large box in time for the bowl game. And how many canteens I'll need for the journey.

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A beautiful and wonderful thing.

I'm just going to post a picture today. Now, I have to warn you, some of you gentle readers may get emotional upon seeing this image, but fret not. Don't cry. It is moving, but it is wonderful, and we're all going to get through it.

Jim, you in particular, should sit down and have a Kleenex handy, okay? Here goes:


Sheer joy knows no bounds!

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Little Asian dudes.

Today is my dear friend Timothy's birthday. It is also my little man Ryan's birthday. Tim, I think you are about twenty years older than Ryan. Does that make you feel exceptionally old?


Yes, that Ryan of "removable fingertip trick" fame!

Ah, probably not. I'll bet Tim is sitting somewhere in China, working and not giving a shit.

Anyway, I just wanted to show both birthday boys some love on their day. Not that I expect that Tim even bothers reading this anymore, nor do I expect Ryan to read this, because frankly, I'd kick his ass if I found him on the computer looking at this drivel. Shouldn't he be out in the pool, training to become a Navy SEAL? After all, isn't that what he said he wanted to be when he grew up? Of course, he said this three years ago, but who keeps track, really? I need to talk to his mother about this.


"Oooh...Navy SEALs!"

Sorry. But you knew I wouldn't be able to help myself!

Next up: Danhole explains to everyone what the hell he means when he talks about "sexlifting," and maybe, if you're all really lucky, I'll tell you about my awesome weekend.

Well, at least I can tell you it consisted of the following: football, stuff, and things.

Chris, showing off his "jazz hands" whilst being pursued by some dude who plays for a team named after a nickname for menstruation (I know, the pic just begs to be Photoshopped).

Good Lord, there is such a charge of estrogen in this part of the post!

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Dearest Q...

And L... and K... and, oh hell, myself:

Just wanted to share a special moment, is all.


"Oh, it's true. It's damned true!"

If you need me, I'll be quietly weeping tears of joy and shame in the corner. The joy: for the obvious reason posted above. The shame: for citing anything attributable to Kurt Angle.


I can't even bring myself to post a picture of Ric Flair in my defense.

I know, I know. Leave me alone.

I'm going to go mumble something about gift horses and mouths under my breath now.

Love ya lots,
S.

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