College football = no thanks

Photo: SD Dirk

I really hate college football.

We didn't have football at my school (we were too busy ignoring the basketball and soccer teams), so I admit that I've never been caught up in the whole OMG IT'S GAME DAY SO IT'S TIME FOR KEGS AND EGGS AND PUT ON YOUR JERSEY BECAUSE WE'RE ALL SO FUCKING EXCITED ABOUT SPORTS AND ISN'T OUR SCHOOL JUST THE BEST!!?!

My problem with college football isn't that these schools funnel money into sports over academics or that it allows 18-year-old children to get puffed-up egos. My real problem is that these players suck.

Fumbling the ball, missing easy field goals, falling over their own two feet -- it's a painful amateur hour. Look, if you're not gonna be allowed to stay in college because of good grades, you damn well better be able to catch a ball.

This is why I prefer professional football. They don't make those kinds of mistakes and they have god-like abilities that mere mortals don't have. THAT is worth watching. If I wanted to watch a bunch of idiots run around and drop things, I'd have a kid, put him in a pee-wee league and actually go to the games.

So in my house, we do not watch football on Saturdays. We don't even acknowledge it. In fact, the only reason that I even remember that football happens on Saturdays is because I see Facebook status updates lamenting how so-and-so threw another interception. And that's fine with me. I don't think I'm missing much.

Instead, we're glued to the TV on Sundays, watching the Browns lose, the Colts win, Adrian Peterson score and Bill Bellichick wear those three-quarter length sweatshirts for no discernible reason. Good plays, good games, real talent. Toss a few beers and some good friends into the mix, and it's a recipe for an enjoyable Sunday.

Baby Lu will make me more responsible

Little Lu is coming over tonight -- from now through Sunday, I'll be taking care of her while Mommy Ang has a blast in Vegas.

How's it gonna go? Lu and I are totally in love, but I've never been responsible for taking her outside, cleaning up her shit, keeping her entertained and keeping her safe. The horror of it all is that she's not a sleeper like I am. Ang says Lu sleeps better when she's in the bed rather than her crate, so I say, come on in, little one! Whatever will give me another hour of drowsy bliss.

So, we'll see how this turns out. All I know is if I can't handle Baby Lu for four days, I can't handle my own dog, period. It will be an eye-opening experience either way. Stay tuned...

Christmas cheer

Photo: ianqui

Holiday commercials have been playing -- albeit sporadically -- for the last week or two, beginning at the end of October. I know a lot of people are completely put off by how early the Christmas cheer kicks in, but I'm just gonna say it.

I like it.

Yeah, it's early, but I don't care! I like getting wrapped up in the holiday spirit, the sparkling decorations, the snowy scenes in commercials, the coziness of the season, the special holiday drinks, the gift-giving, the familiar Christmas songs, the anticipation of fun family time...

It warms my cold, black heart.

So, fine, it started in October. Let's face it, these weeks always end up flying by anyway, so the fact that the holidays are being shoved down our throats so soon isn't really that much of a crime. At least, not in my book. And I'm a pretty cranky person, so if I can embrace it, you can too. Right?

Dave spels gud

Our latest IM conversation...

Me: Whoa, it's 4 already?

Dave: Yep. And practically dark already.

Dave: I fucking hat it.

Me: I hat it too.

Me: I hat a lot of things.

Dave: Very funnay.

Dave: God dammit!

Sooooo funnay.

Capisce?

We women are often accused of being cryptic.

"Why can't you just say what you MEAN?" men whine.

"Stop playing games," they demand.

"Just TELL ME what you want!" they plead.

No.

We do it our own way and I don't know why. What I do know is that it's not really going to change anytime soon, so here are a few common phrases that I've decoded to take away the great mystery of female communication.

I say: Do you know where the TV remote is?

I mean: Can you find the TV remote so I don't have to get up?

I say: It's cold in here.

I mean: Can you go turn the heat up for me?

I say: Are you thirsty right now?

I mean: Can you go get me some water that I may or may not share?

I say: When was the last time we got groceries?

I mean: It's time for you to put together a Peapod order.

I say: Want to watch a movie?

I mean: I want to want a movie.

I say: What movie do you want to watch?

I mean: What movie do you think I want to watch?

I say: How early are you getting up?

I mean: Wake me up that early and die.

I say: What do you want for dinner?

I mean: Are you cooking dinner tonight or do I need to order something?

I know what you're thinking and, yes, Dave is a lucky man.

Laziness abounds

Photo: Frosted Peppercorn

This was my day today:

8:30 -- Wake up and decide it's too early. Promptly fall back asleep.

9:30 -- Wake up and decide it's time to work. Put on a sweatshirt, but decline the pants.

10-12:30 -- Work diligently while slouched on the couch.

12:30-1 -- Eat lunch and flip on the TV for the fabulous daytime shows.

1-5 -- Work some more, less diligently since Desperate Housewives is on in the background.

5-5:30 -- Shower, because it's time to pretend I'm a functional adult.

5:30-5:45 -- Record invoice: $300 for one day's work? Yes, please.

I. Am. Spoiled.

Of course, not all days are like this. Tomorrow I'll be making a dreaded trip to the lady doc before returning home for more work. Last week, I only had a few projects, not multiple projects in one day like I've been having. Next week, I have no idea what I'll be working on. There's definitely an ebb and flow, and the uncertainly can be hard...

But for right now? It's working out.

However, it's also enabling my already-crippling laziness, which is BAD.

So, I feel like I really need to do something more productive with my days, since I'm not bathing until the evening and not putting on makeup, oh, at all. My bright idea is to venture back into the world of exercise.

Here are my options:

• Buy an elliptical so I can mindlessly exercise while watching TV.
• Buy a mat so I can do pilates on these hardwood floors without hurting myself.
• Continue pretending that 10 years of gymnastics excuses me from all future exercise. (AKA, do nothing.)

Let's be honest. God only knows if I'll find the motivation to follow through on working out. But putting it out there like this is the first step.

Or something.

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to move on to my jam-packed evening of heating up leftovers and catching up on TV.