And this one, my friends, is a doozy.

My friend @TheLegendofJill posted this to Facebook late Wednesday; I saw it this morning and had to take a look. What Jill posted:

1) Find out the song that was No. 1 the week you were born.
2) Find that song on YouTube.
3) Post that video on your wall without shame.

Jill was happy to post a video of Rupert Holmes’ “Escape (The Pina Colada Song),” a delightfully cheesy slice of the late 1970s. In response, I joked that no one was making music videos in 1966.

And oh, how I wish I was correct. Had I been born a couple weeks earlier, it would have been The Supremes’ “You Can’t Hurry Love.” A week later? The Four Tops’ “Reach Out I’ll Be There.” And I would have been perfectly happy with either classic Motown song.

But no.

Ladies and gentlemen, the No. 1 song on Oct. 12, 1966:

Let’s be straightforward here. I know this song. I know it well. And I’ve always hated it. As in, The Association’s “Cherish” Is One Of The Worst Songs In The History Of Music Hatred.

So, Jill. I found the song. I found and posted the video.

But posting it without shame? Sorry. No can do.

The show last night was amazing. Exactly what I needed. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.

I didn’t get a ton of sleep, and that’s part of the reason why I gave myself a one-day break from running. It was still a good morning, though.

I know when it started, but I’m not sure why it continued. But by the middle of the afternoon, my mood had rapidly spiraled. Getting through the rest of the day at work with something that resembled a smile was tough. Coming home and trying not to be annoyed with everything and everyone has been harder.

By the end of the day, I was questioning everything. And feeling confident about nothing. I try to tell myself that this isn’t me. But sometimes it is.

It’s 10 o’clock. I am stopping now, and going to bed. I’ll run when I get up. I’ll finish some work stuff that I’m in no mood to tackle now. I’ll get ready to go to Columbus.

And I hope this will be past.

I had a great week. There’s been plenty to write about.

But all that stuff meant I’ve also been a little busy. And the post-a-day thing has been a little hard to keep up with as a result.

And then, I got sick. That’s not much of an excuse, either — it’s really meant that I’ve been lying around the house for two days feeling shitty. And not writing blog posts.

I fully intend to finish October with 31 posts here. And as long-time readers know, I’m certainly not above cheating to get there. So here we go.

It’s been a while since I’ve written about college football here.

There are a couple reasons for that. Most of what I have to say goes on Killer Nuts Tailgating, the blog I set up for that express purpose a couple years ago.

And then there’s this: I haven’t had much happy stuff to say about college football recently.

Ohio State plays at Nebraska tonight. It’s not an exaggeration to say I’ve been waiting for this game since the very day we heard Nebraska might be joining the Big Ten. And now that it’s here … I’m just not nearly as engaged as I should be.

Some of that has to do with my expectations of what will happen in Lincoln tonight. I’m generally OK with the notion that this is going to be a rough season, but that isn’t going to make it any easier to get ready for a game that Ohio State doesn’t have much of a chance to win.

Some of it has to do with what I’ve been calling The Unpleasantness at KNT, and the fact that it hasn’t really let up with the dismissal of Jim Tressel and that other guy who would have been starting at quarterback this year. The newest suspensions, particularly those of players who had already been suspended because of the tattoo thing, is disheartening. I’m not naive, and I know no college football program, including the one I support with everything I have, is completely clean; it’s almost impossible to do. But every single time this year I’ve thought the university has turned a corner and I could get back to cheering for a program that I could also be proud of, something else — cash at charity events, no-work summer jobs — buries me again.

We’re going to a party tonight, a going-away shindig for a very good friend of ours. I’ll do my best to keep an eye on the game — as I would have done if this had been a more typical football season — but I’m not expecting to have to watch very closely.

And I’m not sure I’ll want to anyway.

See that dent on the ring finger of my left hand?

That’s where my wedding ring is supposed to be.

As we were getting in bed Tuesday night, I had a start — the ring was gone, and I had no idea when I had seen it last.

I looked some that night, even though it was close to midnight and I really needed some sleep. I looked more on Wednesday — around my desk at work, in my car, and again in the house — and found nothing.

Mrs. Crappy is even bringing home a borrowed metal detector — one of those ones the weathered old guys in aloha shirts use on beach — and I’m going to comb the yard over the weekend. I cut the grass on Tuesday evening, and I supposed it could have fallen off out there someplace.

I feel lost without it. I moved my engagement ring — the one Mrs. Crappy bought for me in Athens the day after I proposed on College Green — but that’s not the same.

I’m not sure I’m going to find it anywhere. I could always replace it, but this is one of the few Things I own that isn’t really replaceable. I can have another ring on that finger, but it won’t be the one that Mrs. Crappy put there on Sept. 25, 1999.

I’ve been communing with the commode since Friday. Regularly scheduled programming will resume soon. I hope.

Goodbye, vending machines in the office cafeteria.

We don’t keep snacks at home. And while I know I can buy all the crap I want at the grocery, these machines in the back of the building are awfully convenient when I get hungry and don’t have time to leave and get a decent meal.

No Doritos. No Hostess products. No horrible off-brand chips that aren’t even that good. No pop. If I don’t bring it, I don’t eat it or drink it.

No crap, at least from these machines, for the next 40 days. And I’m hopeful that once the habit is broken, I won’t feel the need to pick it up again.

(Hi, Uncle Crappy.)

In and of itself, six days isn’t a big deal for me — in fact, I used to take longer breaks, intentional or not, pretty regularly. But I did just promise a couple weeks ago that I was shooting for 20 posts a month in 2010, and at this pace, I’m not going to be close for January.

But that’s not the real issue. For the last week or so, I’ve felt a little out of sorts, and I’m not sure why. Some stuff is different, some stuff is the same; I don’t really have anything to be seriously bothered over.

Still. Something ain’t right.

• Work is something of a challenge at the moment. We switched beats around at the start of the year, and that’s always a little tough while you figure out who’s who and what’s going on with the new stuff. This one is a little tougher, because it’s the only beat we have that regularly competes with the Pittsburgh papers. I don’t mind a little extra pressure, and I’m OK with the knowledge that I’m going to get my ass kicked for a few weeks. For now, it’s hard. Once I get settled, the pressure will still be there, but I’ll get to do the ass-kicking once in a while.
• We had a trip to Holiday Valley planned for next week. We decided to call it off, as we let our bank accounts recover from Christmas a little bit. That’s definitely a bummer, but I’ve had two good skiing days so far — one Western-style day, just up the road at Seven Springs, and one very good Eastern-style day at the same place a week later — so that’s not what I’m missing. The time on the hill would have been great, but what I’ll miss most is the time Mrs. Crappy and I would have had, alone and away. I mean, I love you guys and everything, but she’s the one I married…
• We’re resurrecting the annual Groundhog thing after a year off, on the first weekend in February. We’re going to have a good group, a great time, at a great spot. But I’m a little disappointed in the response we got — or, rather, the lack thereof. This was a big deal to a lot of people for a long time. I’ll be OK once we’re set up at Mohican, but I’m still struck by a little doubt — is this worth continuing after this year?

Wow. That’s a lot of bitching. Sorry about that. Clearly, I have some stuff to figure out, and I don’t need to do it all here while you guys patiently (?) wait on me to get my shit together. I have a few exercises in mind to get me going here again; in the meantime, I’ll be over here working on the rest of it.

And: Anyone know where I can get a cheap ukulele?

Shot in Erie by my buddy Bobbo, who couldn’t wait to email it to me.