Burninating The Countryside, Burninating The Peasants

Holy crap, Kelly Moore is a genius!!

Happy Halloween, Losers!!

Well, it looks to be a very spooooooooky Monday! And by spooky I mean...no one in my office dressed up this year, no one in my neighborhood trick-or-treats, and I have no Halloween-related plans whatsoever. Last year I believe Kel and I went on a "ghost hunt", which I put in quotes because at the last minute we realized it may be just a teensy bit disrespectful to go trapsing over the graves of ND priests in search of spooks--so we ended up just wandering around the lakes with our ghost-hunting equipment (a disposable camera) where we may have run into Dr. Dye, and may have accused him of being a ghost, which may have caused us to run off laughing maniacally. I don't remember for sure. Anyway, we ended up with a lot of pictures of black and gray nothing, save a few nice ones of Kel's thumb, so I think this year we might just go to Chili's and throw back a few big dogs instead.

This weekend was all I dreamed of and more. Lounging, feasting, footballing, gaming, movie-ing, and on several notable occasions listening to my roommate cough up a cow. It was hot...real hot. We watched The Butterfly Effect on Saturday, which I had been looking foward to for a while because it has the fat guy from Boy Meets World. I was a bit disappointed. First of all, why in the hell did they call it The Butterfly Effect? They even opened with that quote about a butterfly flapping its wings causing a typhoon halfway around the world, then proceeded to show a complete disregard for that whole line of thinking. In his various trips to the past, the main character alters his present to varying degrees by...don't read this if you haven't seen the movie...

a) Preventing himself from appearing in a child porn
b) Killing his best friend's brother
c) Killing his best friend
d) Blowing his limbs off
e) Strangling himself in the womb

Wow. It's truly amazing how such minute and seemlingly unimportant details can so drastically affect the future! Way to cash in on a well-known idea and then completely ignore it. Ironically, the two relatively small changes he did make--burning himself with a cigarette and impaling his hands on two large spikes (which had no business being in an elementary school classroom)--apparently had no effect on the future whatsoever. And then there was the whole memory thing--part of the tension was that he could only make so many trips back in time, because upon each return a lifetime of memories would rush into his brain all at once, causing increasingly severe hemorrhaging--only, once they worked the hemorrhaging thing in, they ignored the whole "flood of memories" part. Every time he came back to the present he'd act all confused and have to figure out what had changed. What the hell? I'm so angry I could just go eat lunch.

Hilaaaaaaarious

I ducked over to LaFun a couple hours ago for a late lunch, and ran into Travis at the huddle. "Hey Mal" he said, gesturing at the dining area, "your roommate's drunk." Cut to Ball, grinning: "We went to CJs for lunch!" Haha, ahhhhh to be a student again!

Wait...I just did that exact same thing like 3 weeks ago. Ahhhhh, to be 3 weeks ago!

This weekend is sizing up to be pretty relaxed--or "chillaxed" if you're "down" with the latest "hip-hop jive." No game, and Kel will be studying like a mofo for her biggest test of the year on the 31st. I had hatched a madcap scheme to fly down to Austin to punch Lizett in the face, but it turns out she has to go home to Houston for some reason. I don't want to make any undue accusations, but I'm pretty sure she's a drug mule. So anyway, I guess I'll stay here and bachelor it up while Kel is distracted with anatomy, watching football in my boxers and eating uncooked ramen straight from the package.

And I'm sure virtually everyone has seen it now, but please enjoy Notre Dame's improvements to its storied history.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

I ran into the little old Indian lady again on the way to work today. I love her. She's about 4 feet tall and ambles around campus with a heavy limp, smiling broadly at everyone and looking like she may explode at any moment due to the immense amounts of joy packed into her little tiny body. She always waves or nods enthusiastically when I pass her, but one morning when Kel and I were walking to the Dome she just couldn't contain herself and shouted "Good morning! It's a beautiful day!" and then, thrusting her arms into the air, "It's a beautiful LIFE!!" Good Lord! You're so happy! I love it!

Ha!

Is there anything more hilarious than someone trying to spout off a witty comeback and then stuttering so badly that they just have to give up? I submit that there is not.

Not....Pigeons

Whelp, the Astros sure bit it hard last night. That's what you get for being from Texas, jerks! Anyway, you may not have won any games, but you have won my pity. Enjoy it in good health. I flipped away after the game ended and Kel made me flip it back. What?--I asked--I thought you hated baseball. "Oh yeah, I do. I guess I was just hoping they'd somehow have footage of Lizett looking wrecked." Haha, indeed. In fairness, Kel was also rooting for the Astros--I suppose that after being at ND the past few years she's well equipped to empathize with them.

So Marisa's father comes up to Mothball at his tailgate Saturday and says "I understand you want to hook up with my daughter." Um, what? Did I just hear that? Can someone confirm that just happened? The only thing that could be more awkward is if Marisa was standing right there. Unfortunately (for Ball) and hilariously (for me) she was standing right there, so maximum awkwardness was attained. What do you say to a question like that? In that situation I think I'd have to go for the witty jibe, which I believe is the route Ball took. Another option would be soiling your shorts. When I'm older I'm going to ask all my daughter's guy friends that, only I'll have straw in my mouth and I'll say it in a heavy southern accent like "I understayand that yeeew wanna hook up with maahh daaawter!" Then I'll slap him on the back and tell him I'm kidding, and just when he thinks he's safe I'll shout "Git'im boooooys!" and a bunch of plaid-wearing rednecks will pounce. Pirate rednecks, maybe! Haha! What a zany and farfetched scenario I've described!

Which brings me to my next point. Why is everyone so freaking fascinated that I wear a tie to work? I work in the Dome you savages! I've worked here for two years! Every time I run into anyone I knew from undergrad, they feel compelled to say "Well you're all dressed up!" Yeah, usually I go to work in bermuda shorts and a wife beater with the nipples cut out...I just thought I might run into you today so I dressed to impress. So help me I will dip you in chocolate, give Kel your scent, and release you in the woods. And you will die.

T-Minus one week until delicious JISM Church meeting #1! Be there or be...not...damned.

Smells Like...Victory

I'm a total facebook geek. And by that I don't mean someone who loves facebook, I mean someone who is on facebook but has no friends. I put out a profile 9 or 10 months ago and then got on with the business of never thinking about the site again, so now there's just a mostly empty profile out there proclaiming to all who would see it: Behold! I have no friends! Fortunately I make up for that by being a totally badass rastafarian pirate ninja in my profile pic. Line forms to the left, ladies!

I skipped out of work a little early on Friday to catch the marchout and practice. The band continues to look and sound better than I can ever recall it being in my day--I credit Hoover and his relentless oosing. Whatever that means. Afterward we headed out on a rare non-Monday-night Chili's excursion where, after a few generously comped beers, Ball and I engaged in an idiotic display of excess and pointless oneupmanship (read: pissing contest) which ultimately culminated in an $80 tip on a $25 meal. Overkill? Perhaps. But the important thing is that not a penny of it went to Carol.

Friday night we headed out to Oscar's with some alumni. It's a townie bar, but I enjoy the place more and more despite everyone else's relative indifference to it. It's got pool, foosball, cheap beer, no cover or ass-smell (cough, Bookmakers), it's never too crowded, and there's always some middle aged drunk people making fools of themselves. Unfortunately Ball was the only one with the sense to head home after that, and the rest of us went on to the Backer. I cannot stress this enough--it is never a good idea to go to the Backer. It might sound fun at the time, you might even have fun while you're there, but it is never worth the hangover, the temporary deafness, and above all the Backer Crud that destroys your pants, seeps into your pores, and eats your soul. No single shower, no matter how long, can cleanse you of Backer filth--it becomes a part of you. A very stanky part.

The game was great. Ahhhh, so relaxing. It was nice, especially after last weekend, to sit back and watch the Irish whoop some ass. I confess I was not a very good fan--I spent much of the game sitting down and yelled maybe thrice. But I enjoyed myself. We tailgated for a bit after the game and then headed out to the BrewCo with D-Day and the Nipples for beer, appetizers, and the mockery of our waitress, who seemed strangely unamused by our clever and wildly hilarious antics.

Sunday was a day of vegging out. I bought a couple video games, played SSX On Tour for a solid three hours, and then, in a testament to my disinterest in baseball, skipped out on game two to watch Final Destination 1 and 2 on USA. I think they were marketed as horror flicks, but I tell you they're comedic gold. I guess it's more than a little sick to laugh at the increasingly gruesome deaths of a bunch of movie teens, but the ways in which the Grim Reaper opts to off them are so outrageously convoluted that you can't help but smirk at the audacity of the writers. The teacher, for instance, dies when a leaky glass of vodka tragically and unfortunately drips into her computer monitor, causing it to explode and shoot large shards of glass into her throat, forcing her to then crawl to the kitchen for a towel to stem the bleeding, a towel which was tragically and unfortuntately draped over a set of steak knives, which of course tipped over causing a large butcher knife to tragically and unfortunately impale her through the chest--but don't worry! She didn't suffer long, because her leaky and untended gas stove ended up igniting--get this--the very bottle of vodka that tragically started the whole unfortunate ordeal, and her house blew up. Yeah, Mr. Death? I might have, you know, just given her a heart attack or something, but, I mean...I guess your way is good too.

I topped off the night by baking a cake for Lizett's birthday. Then I remembered Lizett lives 700 miles away. Then I ate the cake.

It was chocolately and delicious.

So Full

I just went over to LaFun to get a burger--

It's now warm and sunny outside, and the quads are packed. Awesome.

I just went over to LaFun to get a burger, because I haven't been able to eat all day. I figured I'd better force something down...couldn't do it, threw it away. I ate the better part of a pizza for dinner last night, but is it possible to still be full from something you ate 16 hours ago? Are there darker forces at work here? Am I going to die? Have I stumbled upon something too trivial even for a blog post? History will decide. Until then, I'll be here rubbing my belly like I'm 9 months pregnant.

Mormons! The Mormons Are Coming!

Campus is totally nuts. There are roving hordes of mormons everywhere, swilling sprite and terrorizing the populace. It's not safe out there. I asked a BYU fan how he was doing and he ate my face!

Campus is pretty dead. At least it seems that way after last weekend. Last weekend = beautiful, sunny warm weather, biggest game of the year, fans in from all over the country wandering the campus. This weekend = cold rainy weather and empty quads. I'm sure things will heat up tomorrow. It's Irish football, baby.

I knew a mormon guy in high school named John Brodegard (Johnny B). He was a really nice guy, polite to the point of absurdity--but kind of a geek, so he got mocked for it. High schoolers are jerks. One day, as such kids are wont to do, the poor bastard managed to humiliate himself in front of half the school by falling down the main steps at class change. It wouldn't have been funny at all, I would have even felt sorry for him (well, I did feel sorry for him...it was just mixed with amusement), but the steps weren't a straight flight. They went halfway down, plateaued at maybe an 8x8' square, and then continued the rest of the way at a right angle to the original path. Johnny B fell starting at the top, hit the halfway mark, then somehow turned the corner to continue his tumble down the rest of the steps. It was just...amazing.

Another guy I knew, Nick Glaze, played a wacky prank where he sprayed the floor outside the band room with liquid silicon. What the hell kind of prank is that?? Ha ha, I broke your tailbone! Suck on that, jerk-wad! We laughed anyway--I believe I mentioned that high schoolers are jerks.

When I was working at the YMCA I was buddies with this guy named Josh Brackney (The Brack Attack) who used to introduce himself to everyone as Hezekiah Yoder. Yeah, I've moved on to the Amish now. It was the most wonderfully bizarre and random thing ever. Hey, nice to meet you, my name is Hezekiah Yoder. Really? Yeah, really. People would find out his real name from someone else later. Why did he do it? No one knows. To this day I wake up in cold sweats...wondering.

Working at the Y was great. Just a bunch of college age kids with almost no supervision. We used to sit back behind the front desk eating greasy pizza while the poor fools who actually came to work out looked upon us with desperate, ravenous longing. "So good" we'd say, "so good. Thank God we're so young, fit, and thin!" We knew all the members pretty well so it was all in good fun. Until the killings started.

My prediction--

ND: Delicious Pie
BYU: Scabies

REAL Ultimate Holy Power!

Getting tired of Catholicism? No? Shut up! Kelly Moore and I are starting a new church, the Jesus Is Savior of Man Church, and you should totally jine up! The primary duties of congregants will be smooth belly rubbing, highlife swilling, and the 3:30am consumption of Kraft Mac&Cheese. JISM church services will be held at CJs Pub, and our holy men and women will wear pirate masks and shout "I'm the captain!" until you just want to punch them. Mandatory $500 donation.

Haha, I've just made light of religion on the internet, and implicated Kelly Moore without her consent! Burn her! She's a witch!! Now to lose all my friends, get fired, and be forbidden to marry Kel. It was totally worth it.

Tell Me Something Good

That '70s Show nearly killed me yesterday. Or more accurately, a barbell almost killed me due to That '70s Show. Kel and I were at Rolfs doing skullcrushers--I was near the end of the second set when Chaka Khan came on the playlist belting out "Teeeell me something good!" and suddenly 850lbs (minimum!) was rushing at my face. I realize that to many people, Chaka Khan singing "Teeeell me something good!" is not one of the more groin-grabbingly amusing things in life, but they have obviously not seen the episode of That '70s Show where Foreman walks in on his parents having sex. I got giggling like a little biatch and my arms lost their normal superhumanly massive man-strength. My last thought on this earth was very nearly Debra Jo Rupp eating sausage naked at the breakfast table...followed by a brief and panicked "Not the face, not the faaaace!!" Anyway, I somehow avoided disaster, so hopefully now my last thought can be something more a little more noble (That wheel of cheese was delicious!) and my face can stay oh so pretty for years to come.

Thanks, But No Thanks

Whelp...I didn't take the job. I'm crazy, biatch! You never know what I'll do next! I might shake your hand, or I might kick you in the crotch and run for the hills, laughing maniacally with my arms waving over my head like streamers. I might depants you during your nationally televised meeting with the President. Maybe I'll eat a whole wheel of cheese in one sitting. You don't know. I'm unpredictable.

Or maybe I'll apply for a job, somehow snag it, get crazy excited about it...then not take it. The details are not publishable, but through the course of yesterday afternoon my boss convinced me that my current office is the place to be in the near future. So here I'll stay.

Who else is in for BYU? So far I've only heard BL, Megan, and D-Day. Anyone? Anyone?

Best Weekend Ever

Yeah, we lost, I know. Still by far the greatest game I've ever been to, probably the greatest game I've ever seen. I can't put into words what it was like being in the stadium--I've never been so emotionally invested in any sporting event. I've had some serious freak-outs over ND games before, but this was like loss-of-all-body-control freaking out. I couldn't stand still, I was rocking back and forth and waving my arms around like a monkey. I'm pretty sure I made sweet love to the large man standing in front of me. I bruised my fingers clapping (no more class ring at USC games, make a note of it) and probably did irreparable nerve damage digging into Lizett's arms as I clutched desperately for support.

The only thing that broke the tension was the weirdo behind us shouting "Samardzija" every play. Every play. Offense and defense. Was he rooting for him? Taunting him? I don't know. He didn't elaborate. Just "Samardzija, Samardzija!" over and over. We started making fun of him, but either he didn't know or didn't care. He was a man on a mission, and that was to say the name Samardzija 895 times in 4 hours or less. So that was some welcome comic relief. Then the last few seconds came.

The few seconds when the clock ran out. We couldn't believe it. I seriously didn't know what was going on. Lizett and I looked at the clock, then each other, then...we won? Did we just win? WE WON!! WE WOOOOOOOON!!! We're hugging and jumping and screaming like lunatics. Aside from that time I found a gummy worm in the couch cushion, it was the best few seconds of my life.

Then...what? We didn't win? Oh.

It's hard to put the disappointment into words. It's like you're walking through the desert dying of thirst, and suddenly you're given a tall cold glass of water--the light dawns, you start swishing it around in your mouth, it's heaven...then right before you swallow some dude comes up and kicks you in the gut, throws sand in your mouth, and shows you a picture of him in bed with your wife. It was...awful.

Afterward, it was almost impossible to talk about anything else. The rest of the weekend was the following unstoppable loop:

"Wow. What a great game. Really. It was amazing. We really hung in there. Really, I'm proud of them, we did great."

(3 second pause)

"AAAAGHHHHHHHH!!! Those last few seconds, oh GOD!"

(3 minutes of talking about something else)

(slight lull)

"AAAAHHHGGGHHHHHHH!!! I just can't believe we came so close! I'm going on a killing spree!"

Unless you were talking to Lizett, then it was:

Lizett: (Moves mouth, no sound comes out)

Others: What?

Lizett: (Moves mouth more emphatically--still no sound)

Others: (Feigning understanding) Ohhhh! Haha!

Speaking of Lizett, does anybody else think she looks like Bill Cosby? Hahaha, Vnak you comic genius! I didn't even hear him say it, I just heard it repeated later, and I still almost lost bladder control.

Ahhhhhh, football weekend.

So, in slightly less important news...

I GOT THE JOB! BOOYA, BOOYA, BOOYA!! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

I Smelled What The Rock Was Cooking

By now, many of you have heard the rumor that the Rock was at the Backer last night, along with Mel Gibson and Tom Cruise. What you may not have heard is that I was there too, and I whooped the Rock's ass. I was like, yo Rock, I challenge you to fisticuffs! He couldn't refuse. His ninja honor was on the line. We fought for 20 days and 23 nights, and in the end I punched him so hard he exploded.

He seriously is on campus. I hope he somehow reads the above, walks over to the Registrar's Office, and beats me savagely with his bulging pectorals. It would be a glorious death.

Celebrity rumors abound. Tom Cruise. Mel Gibson. The exploded remains of the Rock. That guy who played Jesus. Rudy. Montana. Bon Jovi. Springsteen. P Diddy. Okay, I started the P Diddy rumor.

Alright, I never even started it, I just said I was going to. And then never did. Until now. But he'll be here. Oh, he'll be here.

Campus is ridiculous. People are everywhere. They couldn't figure out where to park all the private jets that are flying in for this, they had to redirect to the next regional airport over. And why not? This is the biggest game...ever. If the Rapture were to come tomorrow afternoon, I'm pretty sure the ND Priests would use their combined priestly powers (which totally exist, as shown in the documentary Constantine) to postpone it until the game was over. And God would say--My bad.

My prediciton--

ND: Jesus
USC: That drunk guy who shat himself when I got arrested last year

Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!

Oh God, I just heard a rumor that Rudy Ruettiger is MCing the pep rally tomorrow. Which is great, because he is the best public speaker ever. And by great I mean terrible. And by best I mean...God I wish they would just get Sean Astin.

Haha! Disney is using the Rudy theme in their Anniversary commercials! We are so great! We are so great! S-M-R-T!

Interview

I had a job interview today. I applied for the position months ago, I guess they're just getting around to sifting through the applications. The job would be freaking sweet if I got it. Headbutting your mom sweet. Orange Mocha Frappuccino sweet. I hate coffee. The position is Web Developer for the A&L Dean's Office, and I'd be working in collaboration with the ND Web Group. They're good. Just a few years ago the ND web presence was a mess, and site by site they're putting us on the cutting edge.

On paper, I'm not really oh so qualified for the job. I have no applicable experience to speak of, no web portfolio. I've learned so much about development in the past year that I'd be embarrassed to submit any of my previous stuff for their scrutiny. I have a few apps I've done for my office, but it's all back-end goodness, almost nothing presentational. So anyway, I was a little nervous walking over. Fortunately, I just downloaded some Scandal last night, and was able to calm my nerves and jumpstart my confidence with the phat 80s beats. What, you want to tame my AniMal style? Well you can't, bitch! I am the Warrior! Bang Bang, and whatnot! This is what drives me.

The interview went very well. Actually, interviews. One with the Web Group, and one with the A&L Deans. I had this whole speech prepared in anticipation of the question "What special qualities can you bring to the position?" about understanding the atmosphere of the University and already being familiar with the organization of the OIT and such, but then they never asked. So at the end I just said "Uh, well I had anticipated you asking me what special qualities I could bring to the position, so uh..." Bold? Spicy? Delicious? Yes, yes, and yes. Thankfully the interviewer laughed instead of staring blankly, and when I was done she said "That's exactly the kind of answer we're looking for!" To the question they didn't really ask. So suck on that, 3rd grade teacher who said I'd never amount to anything! Who I just made up! Bang, bang!

My Eyes! The Goggles Do Nothing!

I have extremely sensitive eyes. That's why you'll regularly see me walking around in sunglasses at dusk on a cloudy day in the middle of winter--I can't stand being outside without them. Plus, in concert with my dress coat and the fact that I am a muscular black man, they make me look like Blade. Aaaanyway, it's not a real problem as long as I have my shades, except when I go to the eye doctor. Somehow my eyes know that a crap-load of bright light is coming, because they start watering before the exam even begins, and they don't stop until I'm driving home. During the exam I also lose all voluntary control of my facial muscles, and my eyes automatically squeeze shut every time the doctor either shines a light in them or places anything near them--as a result, he has to physically hold my eyes open, and the proximity of his fingers causes them to start spewing tears like a freshman spews natty. It's not painful, but it is definitely not awesome, and it apparently makes examining my eyes very difficult because my appointments always take forever. Obviously I do not enjoy going to the eye doctor. The doctors love it though.

It turns out there is nothing more hilarious to an eye doctor than some chump with really sensitive eyes. I am routinely told through their brazen laughter that I am the most sensitive patient they've ever had. They say "Ha ha! Boy, those things are really watering!" at least 5 times an appointment. And I say "Ha ha! They sure are!" secretly wanting to hit them in the crotch with a croquet mallet. So anyway, the moral of the story is, I had an eye appointment this morning, and it was totally awesome, can't wait to go back.

Happy fun times with Kimlinger and Hesler this weekend. I ask you, is there anything better than sitting down with alumni to a thick tasty CJs burger and an icy cold AmberBock? Huh? ANSWER ME!! Friday night we went to Coach's where I downed a solid half a beer--let me tell you, I was wiggity-wasted. Also, when Ball chugged the remainder before we left, I did not feel any shame at all. However, after a dangerously large dinner at Outback, I thought it may be prudent to avoid forcing things into my stomach until I vomited, so I stand by my decision.

Hey, so no more Arrested Development, Simpsons, or Family Guy until baseball is over! Totally awesome! I love baseball! But I hate baseball cards. Ha! That's the second time I've used that today. In other news, I do not really love baseball, and have never been more murderously enraged in my life.

Oh Yeah

I almost forgot, some Norwegian evildoer totally shafted me out of $9.50 yesterday through the fraudulent use of my check card. You read that right, baby. Nine. Fifty. I now know what it feels like to be violated non-sexually. Obviously he or she is some sort of top-level criminal mastermind. I know what you're thinking--it's only $9.50...clearly there was just some honest mistake, a mistyped digit! Yeah? Well that kind of naive thinking is why I make the big bucks, and you live in a dumpster.

Victory Dance #2

So the other day I heard that the Mothball Post-Michigan Happy Victory Dance of Joy had been sent out as the band link of the day. This fills me with great happiness.

Not because of the increased blog traffic. No, that part fills me with great shame, as some of the undergrads old enough to remember me (already cooler than me by virtue of still being in college) doubtlessly recognized my name and perused some other posts--only to discover that the once mighty hard-drinking party machine known as Animal is now a tie-wearing staying-in and going-to-bed-early machine named Steve. Oh, the shame of being 25! One foot in the grave fo shizzle.

No, I am filled with great happiness because I believe all the band children of the world should have the opportunity to witness Mothball's drunken gyrations, regardless of age, sex, race, or ever having been in band with Mothball. I only hope that Dr. Dye was able to view it, and that he pooped his pants.

Nick and Jen are in this weekend! Wow, I've never referred to them by their first names prior to this moment. Anyway, time to booze it up. Yeah, all that stuff about tie wearing and going to bed early doesn't really apply when alumni are in town. The last time I saw them was at Vnak's wedding, which uh, did not end well for me, but right up until the end it was a boozetacular extravaganza of crazy shenanigans, ranging from Megan unwittingly flashing the majority of the guest list to the entire group not being able to hold a dinner conversation through the mountain of fountain drinks we had surreptitiously collected during the hour of open bar. Then I found 20 dollars!

Anyone heard from Russ-Dog? How's he?

So Hot...Want To Touch The Hiney

So after a week or three of using my Nano, I must say I've been pretty impressed. The screen is clear, the battery life is excellent, and every time a lady sees it she has sex with me.

Two complaints: 1) It's actually a little too light. I didn't think such a thing would be possible, but then my earbud wire got caught on a door handle, and instead of the buds popping out of my ears as the shutting door tugged on the wire, they stayed put and the Nano flew out of my pocket. Whew. That was scary. Here's to no moving parts.

2) The clickwheel. For the Nano, Apple stopped contracting with the folks they had designing their clickwheels and decided to do it themselves. For the most part, the new clickwheel is indistinguishable from the old, but there are subtle and key differences. When I wander around campus, I usually carry my iPod in my back pocket, because doing so affords me plentiful opportunities to discreetly caress my luscious man-booty as I adjust the volume or skip tracks. In the past I would carry it with the controls facing in so I could slip a thumb in my back pocket and use my fingers as a back support as I manipulated the controls, but Apple must have adjusted the temperature or pressure sensitivity, because that dog won't hunt no mo. The thing you must understand about my fine derriere is that although it is sensually curvaceous, it is also pert, taut, yet supple, and above all sizzling hot. Now even the most casual gyrations caused by my normal gait, erotic though they are, are enough to trip the temperature/pressure sensor on the clickwheel volume control, resulting in disaster for my eardrums. So now I have to carry it with the controls facing out, and when I want to change the volume or skip a track, it really does look like I'm caressing my buttock. My fine, well proportioned buttock.

I got totally hosed by an old lady and her gang in the meat section at Martin's last night. I was heading back from Rolfs and I decided a nice fat steak sounded good for dinner. When I got to the meat isle, I started looking for a good piece, and this short old lady came up and stood next to me so close that her hip was brushing my leg. Of course, I fled. I figured she was just old and confused and didn't know about the no touchy rule, but it turns out she was well in control of her faculties and the situation. As soon as I stepped back, two other old ladies materialized from the air, or maybe a nearby aisle, and flanked old lady #1. While they stood there blocking outside access to the meat, the one in the middle took her sweet time sifting through each package and snatching up the choiciest choice cuts of lean deliciousness. All told she was there maybe 5 minutes and took maybe 15 steaks--when she was through the supply of New York Strip had been completely decimated. It was remarkable. These little old ladies had clearly worked out this strategy beforehand, it was just too well executed to be happenstance. I guess when you've been shopping for 50+ years, you pick up a few tricks. Plus, when you're old, you can do pretty much whatever the hell you want.

It's 49-21, Sweetheart

Haha, suck it Holly Rowe! You've been totally belittled on national television! About the time you publicly posed the question of whether the Notre Dame mascot is a real leprechaun, I started to abstractly hope the hammer would be dropped upon you, and it seems Ron Franklin was just the man to swing it. I also enjoyed Bob Davie calling out that big fat guy for being big and fat. Take that, jerk! Apparently! Anyway, super sweet game. That first superman catch by Samardzija caused a welcome explosion of excitement and spittle, and then the rest was smooth sailing. I enjoy the occasional beat-down, especially when I'm watching the game on TV. In the stadium, I prefer a close game no matter who we're playing--you're there, you're pumped, you're cheering, you want the excitement of uncertainty--but once in a while on TV I just like to sit back, pop open an IBC, and watch some chumps get dismantled.

Only something went wrong. I picked up my IBC in the rootbeer section at Martin's. It came in a rootbeer box. The bottle said rootbeer on it. But then I took a swig and BAM! Cream soda. Needless to say it was the worst day of my life.

Lots of alumni swinging through in the coming weeks. Hesler and Kimlinger this weekend--I think they're pretty much just doing wedding stuff, but we'll definitely have to make time for a few at the bar formerly known as Coach's. Vnak, Katie, and Lizett are in for USC, Megan for BYU, Jism, Lauren, Dave, Ben, and Amy Pawlowicz for Tennessee, Stitch for Navy. I'm aroused.