Different Modes of Prophecy
It's 5:30 on a Saturday, and what is your humble narrator doing? Sitting on the couch in her bathrobe, margarita in one hand, cheez-its in the other ('how does she type' you ask. 'Carefully,' she replies) watching a football game. It is a widely publicized fact I hate the shit out of football, but when you only get five channels, one is quilting, one is PAX, and three are football, you choose the lesser of the evils, and the UT/UGA game at least offers some amount of novelty. I mean, I practically attended both universities (my freshman year at UT counts as practically attending, though I may have actually attended more classes at UGA, if you count that one time I sat in on Xian's bio lecture for the hell of it), and worked in bars in both Athens and Knoxville that forced me to profess a love for their team on any given Saturday in the fall. Fun, right?
Nevermind that I should be at school, on our last day of visiting artists, watching demos intently, "stealing with my eyes," being a part of the team, blah blah blah. I've had enough ass-kissing for a few weeks, plus a little voice keeps telling me not to leave the house today, and I usually try to listen to that voice.
Sometimes you just have to slack off. Otherwise, people start counting on you, expecting things, and we can't have that. I'm irresponsible dammit! Love me.
We made up our own presidential debate drinking game last night, with but one rule, drink whenever Bush is a dumbass. Needless to say we had to call it off after we ran out of booze in the first 5 minutes. Sure wish they'd had the debate on in the E.R. while we were having our stomachs pumped, I wanted to see the rest.
Kidding, I thought it was a good debate, if you define "good debate" as Bush being effortlessly trounced by Kerry. And I do. I think the un-NPRed masses are finally getting it, and I'm getting excited.
Go DAWGS! Arf, Arf, Arf
(That was just for Holly, I don't give a rat's ass about the Dawgs, or anyone else.)