Why is it that I am incapable of keeping nailpolish on for more than two days before it starts chipping. Even the "ten days no chipping" nailpolish - two days. Am I defective? Broken? What the heck?

And does anyone read Funky Winkerbean? First Wally stepped on a land mine in Afghanistan and almost died. And now his wife Becky and Rana might be dead by a car bomb. It's a comic. I hate it when fiction starts reminding me of life. There is enough sadness and grimness in the real world. When something that is supposed to be humerous is grim, it's hard. Then again, this is the same comic that has featured divorce, alcoholism, and all sorts of real world issues, so why am I surprised?

I was also told that I throw a football like a gay male. What the hell does that mean? Is that better or worse than being told that I throw like a girl? Is that some sort of comment that I've just never heard of before?

So you will all be pleased to know that I did not mix the men this weekend. Unfortunately, I *did* mix my alcohol. Saturday night was bad...

I always knew that I liked Stewart Mandell. (Hmm...picking OSU in the Rose Bowl...that's gotta be a curse for OSU.)

And Travis Hafner made two outs in the same inning. That sucks. Speaking of, I've learned that I will swing at the first pitch every time I am up to bat. Doesn't matter how ugly the pitch is. I think it's because I start with a 1-1 count. Of course, this doesn't apply now that I have two strikes against me. What the hell is wrong with me? (OK, don't answer that.)