Not that I want to jinx it, but the Indians are in sole possession of the wild card lead after yesterday's game. (Running and knocking on wood. Or whatever that cardboardy wall thing is.) Meanwhile, the Yankees start a 3 game series against Boston. Dear Boston - consider purchasing a broom.

Do you remember how, when you were young, your mom would put your gold star papers on the fridge. Every time you went to get some grape koolaid, your awesomeness would stare at you? (No wonder kids don't have self esteem issues.) Anyway, last week I was working on a brief with another associate, we sent it to the partner, who liked it. Actually, she emailed back that it was one of the most persuasive, funniest briefs she had ever read. I wanted to print that email out and put it on my fridge at home, ala a gold star paper. I resisted not because I knew how pathetic that was, but because my fridge is full if liberal propoganda (mostly my bumper sticker magnets purchased from Northern Sun. Oh, and my Scooby Doo magnets.)

One of the guys on my softball team quit his job. I offered to pay him to clean my house. He thinks I was kidding. I wasn't. You know the last time that I've vacuumed? Or even better, mopped the floor? It's disgusting. Disgusting. I'd gladly play someone to do all that stuff for me. At least my laundry is done right now. (Oh, and the lawn mower is fixed and returned. Guess that means I gotta mow the lawn. Damn, and it was a built in excuse.)

Football starts Saturday. Not NFL football, which started last night. Not college football, which is already in effect. But Cleveland Plays football. Most excellent. Of course, the reason we play football? To go to the bars afterwards. In this case, The Treehouse. So if anyone is at the Treehouse, I'll buy you a pitcher. I'll be there with my team afterwards.

Oh, and 10 months until my 30th birthday... (The surprise party was 10 months from yesterday. Shh!)