After inviting myself to Thanksgiving dinner

at my favorite cousin's house, I received this image in my email-















because I have the most delicious recipe for "White Trash Veggie Casserole," if you want it. And, I should warn you at the outset, the term "veggie" is applied very loosely in the construction of this culinary delight. That being said, it is one of those dishes for which there are NEVER any leftovers.

Southern culture on the skids is yummy, people. I'm just sayin.

The news from Athens

is that black is funereal, after all. And Alabama is playing the best football I've seen them play in years (well, for the first half of the game, anyway). And I do mean years.











Games like that make me miss my grandparents. I mean, they both would have been ridiculously proud of the schools and the awards and the job and the life. But when I was three years old, I had a little red t-shirt that I wore all the time. My grandfather, an avid Alabama football fan, had gotten it for me. I loved that shirt. It read, "Hang on, Bear, I'm comin."

Indeed.

Hello, Fenway!

How're things with you? I have been sort of busy lately--hence the sparse (and fairly unimaginative) posts. However, dear reader, there have been some pretty awesome developments over the last few days that I feel I should share with you. I don't want to be too obvious, but they rhyme with: I got to go to Fenway.




Go ahead. Be jealous.






Things to notice about the picture?
A) My kickin new Red Sox hoody.
B) The Green Monster
C) The fact that I am standing in fucking Fenway stadium.

It was a marvelous, last-minute trip. We rode the Fung Wah bus to Boston. For $15. Seriously. And then we had dinner at this great little Italian restaurant in the North End (I had the chicken saltimbocca--I am kind of an idiot for things-with-prosciutto-in-them). And then we went to Fenway, which was packed. All the seats were full, all the beer was cold, all the music was awesome.

My grandmother was a huge Red Sox fan. She believed, however, that she was bad luck for the team, so she stopped going to games later in life. I am hoping that it is not genetic, but my boys (especially Josh Beckett) did not look so good. I will have to test the theory and see another game. I am sincerely hoping that it is not genetic because Fenway is my favorite stadium, so far.

And Boston, with its lobster rolls and its long, flat vowels and its delicious water front is a place I'd like to visit again. Soon. For $15.

It's good to be King

I'm thinking of buying a tractor

The white boots she's wearing when she's perched on top of the car? I want them. I will wear them while I drive my new tractor to school.

Also, thanks to D for the rec!

Me, As a Sailor

I am the Champion, my friends

I totally won the first week of my football pool. And it was blind-ass luck, I'm not afraid to say it. But, regardless of the skill or fate or the gods or whatever, I won. And Winning is Awesome.

Yesterday was filled with academic bureaucracy and smarmy self-congratulation. Tomorrow, I go back to the normalcy of teaching and chatting with students. The day after that, reading-cleaning-being a grown up-cooking pasta.

But Today. Today, Oh Yes, I drank from the keg of victory. I talked trash via email and cell phone and blog. Today, I walked through the weird hurricane rain with my head held high and my turquoise shoes clacking triumphantly. So I just want to say "Thank You," to all the folks who made this possible.

To the trash talker-who said something stupid about my picks. Thank you.

To the underdogs, for making this triumph possible. I'm looking at you, North Carolina.

To the woman who organized the pool, on a whim and a kicky Excel spreadsheet.

And, most of all, to my parents. Mom--you make me realize the value of the moment. And, Daddy, your genetics lend themselves to my horrifying, borderline uncontrollable, and disconcerting competitive streak.

Hooray! Winning! Hooray!

Your mission

Should you choose to accept it, is this:

Help me figure out a way to get Jay Smooth to my house.



Seriously. We can do this, people.

hahahahahahahaha

David Alan Grier, you look super hot in that ruffly, banana yellow shirt, dude.

I Love You, Weather.com

I Hate You, Weather.com.

Reasons I love you, weather.com:
1) You are good for the planning of shoes, and things having to do with shoes generally excite me.
2) You are full of colorful maps. Maps are awesome.
3) You care about my allergies.
4) You provide me with many different ways to view and/or contemplate the shift of meteorological events. That toolbar at the top of your page is super-handy.
5) You make me feel as if I have some control over things that are, in fact, completely out of my control.

Reasons I hate you, weather.com:
1) What is with that annoying lady dancing in the corner of your page? Something about credit and interest rates dropping? Jesus, she cannot dance. You should really speak to her about that.
2) Sometimes you are so wrong. And then my toes get all wet, or I am very sweaty. And that is demoralizing.
3) You frequently remind me that I am not in Cancun, and that is also demoralizing.
4) It is scary when you highlight things in red. I grew up in a place where tornadoes live, and red banners around weather alerts were never fun to see.
5) You make me feel as if I have some control over things that are, in fact, completely out of my control.

And a New Crush Begins...

Thanks, Y, for providing me with such crushalicious material!!

Deep Thoughts on the RNC

1) Like an Alabama football game, it's got elephant mascots, mindless cheering, hand-written signs, and lots of sweaty white people. Unlike an Alabama football game, it's got, like, three black people, square state accents, and only a few baseball caps.

2) Governor Palin reminds me of Kirstie "Amer-I-Can!" Alley's character in "Drop Dead Gorgeous."

3) Rudy Giuliani has the cutest little lisp.

4) I wonder if Vegas is working on an over-under for November?

5) This just in!!! Apparently, victory in Iraq is finally in sight. Phew--I was getting worried.

Marcie makes Californication worth watching

Meet the SoHo Hos

Hipster girl #1: I'm so hungover, I just want to be hanging out on a roof somewhere drinking a vodka soda.
Hipster girl #2: I don't want a roof, I don't even wanna drink. I want to be laying under the covers with an ice pack on my vagina, sobbing.

--SoHo

via Overheard in New York, Sep 2, 2008