The most entertaining part of my Super Bowl experience was watching my cousins get ever increasingly intoxicated while trying to simultaneously curb their tendencies to spew obscenities lest they corrupt our friend's daughter (17 months old) and her ever-developing vocabulary. Something tells me Monday's day care might be filled with a four letter word that rhymes with "truck."
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Some Final Thoughts:
I am hooked on Audio-Books. The next logical step is to buy a Buik and move to Boca Raton. But seriously I am. Might as well call them "Miss Your Exit Books." Honestly, I get so wrapped up in the story I forget where I am going. ("Was that my turn for 90 West? Who cares? I need to know if that border collie lives.").
My cousin noted that Al Michaels called the 1980 "Miracle on Ice." Al Michaels is older than dirt.
My poor dog Austin (our toothless, hapless, mildly-retarded mut) wouldn't stop bothering me. He hasn't been all there since I "accidentally" dropped him off the balcony 10 years ago. So he keeps begging and trying to lick me. I commanded him to "go get in your crate." He tore off, knowing that crate time meant treat time. Only we haven't had his crate in 4 years. He returned to me a bewildered and defeated dog. I felt awful (no I didn't).
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