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soggy.

If you take a look at the blob of rain and thunderstorms that’s rolling through the Upper Midwest as we speak, you’ll probably come to the same conclusion I do:

My ski season is over.

(What — you didn’t come to that conclusion? Hm…)

That rain gets to Pittsburgh tomorrow afternoon and continues through Friday. It’s not that Seven Springs will be closed, but it’s not going to be especially nice skiing. And after the freaking perfect day I had there two weeks ago, to try to slosh through anything less would only be a disappointment. So it’s OK.

Besides, I have laundry to do. A crappy Friday morning is the perfect time for that.

no alibi.

When our Buckeyes start play in the Big Ten tournament Friday at noon, they’ll be wearing new uniforms. The form-fitting Nike jerseys carry a LeBron James logo.

Am I the only one who thinks the tight top with the baggy shorts looks ridiculous? Yeesh.

I understand the thinking here, especially from a merchandising standpoint. I didn’t like the new football jerseys at first, but from C deck, they look pretty much the same. I got used to them eventually, and even bought one after swearing I never would.

But changing the basketball uniforms during the season? Wrong.

well. uh. see…

Ahh, the midwinter doldrums. Work is less exciting, not a whole lot of fun outside the office, and potential Uncle Crappy posts get piled up in my brain like the mounds of laundry I have to get around to doing one of these days.

Last week was a little frustrating, because on Monday I had then chance to see A) Dark Star Orchestra at Mr. Small’s, B) what turned out to be a completely hot show by The Codetalkers at a tiny bar in Ellwood City, or C) The One I Didn’t Find Out About Until It Was Too Late: a free show by moe., at the North Hills Border’s store.

I attended none of these.

I was too tired.

I’m also a retard.

The only respites? An awesome day of skiing at Seven Springs on Friday — I finally won a freaking NASTAR medal — and fun shit with The Wife in town over the weekend.

Otherwise … meh.

I’m not going to put together another Clip Show post — one of those where I write short things about random stuff, in order to break the writer’s block or whatever other affliction that’s been bothering me. They’re like cheating … and besides, I’ve already done one of those like three posts ago.

I want to tell you more about the skiing. I want to write something funny about the winter storm we’re supposed to get on Tuesday. I want to write something about what I did wrong in preparing for this year’s FOG weekend and what I want to do to fix it. I also have to get the FOG recap and pix posted on the other web page.

Lots to do. Not much motivation to do it. Any suggestions?

happy.


Lemme tell you about how cool The Wife is.

My birthday is tomorrow. I didn’t have anything special planned — except for what promised to be an exceptional dinner in Pittsburgh — but I went ahead and scheduled a day off anyway.

And then I got sick.

So instead of doing something fun for my birthday, I’m going to be lying on the fucking couch and watching The Price is Right.

Whoo. Hoo.

I’ve been pretty irritated about this today, on top of feeling just generally shitty. Until I got home.

The Wife had a city council meeting to cover tonight, but she left me this display on the coffee table. In case you can’t read the notes, this is my “Sick on my Birthday” prize package. From left to right:

  • Box of chocolate-caramel Pop-Tarts.
  • Bottle of port.
  • Three cans of chicken noodle soup. Double noodle, no less.
  • A bottle of Knob Creek bourbon. Yum.
  • The latest Rolling Stone: My “Sick on my Birthday” entertainment.

She’s still at her meeting, and I’m cooking one of the cans of soup as we speak. In a few minutes, I’l be sitting on the couch, eating my soup, leafing through the magazine and keeping an eye on the baseball game.

To The Wife: You’re the best.