Confession Fourteen: JCPenny Ads = NOT COOL!

While watching CBS my anger management monster reared its ugly head. Granted most people would have been annoyed by Two and a Half Men (Charlie Sheen is sort of creepy if you ask me!), but my blood boiled as the JCPenny commercial played over and over again. (I would love to know exactly how much was paid to run that commercial 27 times in a single hour?!)

You may have seen this advertisement – the entire commercial tries to copy the classic the ‘Breakfast Club’ and needless to say THEY DID NOT SUCCEED!

First, whoever suggested JCP should take this route this Back-to-School season is an idiot. Remaking a John Hughes classic in 30-seconds is just as big a slap in the face as the wanna-be-American-Idols rendition of “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” – Simon Cowell where are you and your black t-shirt when we need you most? Was it Paula that allowed this copycat to get a record deal? If so take this as further proof she needs a pretty white jacket, with stylish, long wrap around sleeves and some big shiny buckles on the back of it – just tell her they are totally in this season!

Next let’s discuss the “characters” of this commercial – Oh, nevermind, we can’t because there aren’t any! I have total issues that the young lady portraying Allie Sheedys’ character is wear a Le Tigre dress while pouring the sugar on her sandwich! WTF! I also feel like I can guarantee everyone out there reading that the kid who portrays Anthony Michael Hall’s character thought the director of the commercial was a crazy person when he was asked to sit on the desk and pull the strings of his zipper hoodie. I am extremely annoyed just typing these thoughts and I would like to briefly point out the reason that movie is so great – unlike a normal day in high school - is the movie celebrated the differences of the kids stuck in detention - not their need to wear the same labels!

Now, if you can, please explain, in detail how dressing like everyone reflects any part of that movie. (Guarantee even the BEST BS’ers fail that essay test!)

So far, this abomination remakes a movie that should not have been touched, even when Dawson’s Creek made an honest attempt to, allows the wrong voices to sing a great driving song, and casts a group of dress-a-likes to make a mockery of very classic scenes.

Speaking of those kids – one of the girls, who I am guessing is a model who wanting to ‘break into the business’, is wearing a Nirvana t-shirt. I have the undying urge to play “Come as You Are” or “Smells Like Teen Spirit” in front of her – I swear everyone has heard those songs, that youngin’ HAS to at least be able to hum them. In order to make this game that much trickier, I am going to drop the name Dave Grohl and hope she relates him back to Nirvana and does not mention he is the Foo Fighters front man. For extra security I am going to remind her that I “don’t want to be her monkey wrench.”

When discussing this topic with the big sister she told me I take life too seriously. I say whatever! (This includes the pointer fingers up and the thumbs out – Cher Horowitz style!)

Please take this needless rant as a warning ... Don’t mess with John Hughes! – it’s that easy! If you really want the children of the '80's to band together and boycott I am sure we can do that too! People boycott Wally World for much dumber reasons then what I have presented in this blog!
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Total random side note –
Q. How hot is USA Silver medal sprint Backstroker Matt Grevers?

A. I think every inch of his 6-foot-8 inch frame is probably hotter than the last. Wow. Would I have known who he was had he not just won a medal in the 100 back, probably not, but I am so glad I know now. 6-foot-8 … seriously people do you understand that if I had met him before CP I could have wore whatever shoes I ever wanted; actually with CP being 6-foot-6 I still have ability. Regardless, dude with his West Coast surfer look, even after just getting out of the pool, HOT! And, unlike Michael Phelps he appears about as thick as a swimmer can get. O la la! Oh an our mid-western boy is a smarty pants who swam at Northwestern. (Yes, I totally googled him during the commercial break!)

Let’s take another look at him. … Oh so easy on the eyes.

Confession Unlucky Thirteen: Unlike Most, I Really Am Not Ashamed of My Age - But Please Get It Right!

As I have previously mentioned I am 25 years old.

Seriously people, I am pup, especially when you consider the age of the staff I work amongst, er, I mean the Earth. Yes, I was totally meaning to discuss geological time.

Today, as I was walking back in my office building (read: stadium) from running errands at lunch one of the nice young football players decided to hold the door open for me. “What a nice young man!” I thought to myself – in all honesty I like when the guys think enough NOT to slam the door in my face.

So I say “thank you” and smile then IT happened.

The young man, who was obviously a frosh - seeing as I did not recognize him - says to me:

"Hey, are you the lady that took our pictures for the website? When are they going to be up? "

Actually it wasn’t all that eloquent, but the fact of the matter is he called me THAT LADY?

What is this, am I 40? For goodness sake I have a Facebook account, darnit! I am young and fun!

Granted I should see it as a sign of respect, I guess, but oh, how old do I feel? I might as well suck down a Centrum Silver with a glass of Metamucil for dinner.

I feel as if this was one of those defining moments and Coco and I REALLY need to carry-out our plan to get an MTV show just to prove to everyone how young we are.

She has already made contact with their people and I think the email looked a little like this:

Dear MTV,

The Overachiever and I are way more awesome than any of the current programs that you have on your channel. We could be the next “Rich Girls”, “Girls Next Door”, “The Hills” or “Real World “ (PS – all of these require money so you are going to need to give us a lot!) (PPS – I know the “Girls Next Door” is on E! but you know what I mean MTV – don’t give attitude!). The only thing we haven’t done is get arrested but I am sure that if you let us loose in SoCal we could probably accomplish it without trying (PS – bail money must be written into the contract).

Thank you for your consideration,
Frick and Frack©

PS – TRADEMARKED!! Don’t steal MTV - -- I am onto you!!

PPS – The originators of that nickname are the only people allowed to call us “ladies” – and it must be proceeded by “HEEEEEELLLLLOOOOO”. Oh and it totally helps they are way older than us and will inhabit the Raisin Ranch before we do!

Confession Twelve: When I say MY Interns I am Right Because They Lived in MY Office

Its funny how things work out.

A little over a year ago I was working as a post-grad intern at a BCS school, then got a call to return to my alma mater for a full-time job where oddly enough I took over control of the undergrads. For those keeping track Brett Favre’s retirement lasted longer than my gig at that BCS school; in my defense, I did come back here to work with the winningest coach of his respective sport in school history so its not like the decision was 100% stupid on my part.

Within the same year of my return, my department was moved from one large office to four individual offices – the Director has the office the size of my freshman dorm room, while each of us Assistant Directors have our own four walls and the graduate assistants share a space (see left- I took that earlier today. True story!). Located in my office are the two most important items our department could have 1. The printer - which lures the occasional person in to visit. 2. The candy dish - which lures more people in than the printer and usually makes Rm. 247 the place to be in the morning. Oh yeah, I usually have baked goods of some sort too. Come to think of it, I am not sure why those I work with are not 600 lbs. ... maybe its all that running we do between each others offices five feet away from one another. I do enjoy the "intercom system" though, i.e. screaming while still seated at my desk.

Yet, the prized article in my office are not the post-bowl plaques of former football coaches with the misspelling in the schedules, nor the autographed photo of one of my former little babies from PA, but is actually the “student desk”. – If you ask the GA’s, at some point I wanted to be a teacher and their smaller desk is living proof of this notion when in all actuality I knew we needed a place to put the undergrads during their office hours so why not with me?

Have I mentioned that I am the mom of my office?

This summer we had plans of hosting three undergrads who, depending upon the day, would have a morning or afternoon shift. Ok, sounds easy enough. There might have been one or two days where they would overlap by a minute or so, but we never planned on creating an additional act for the circus that we perform in on a daily basis.

Then two were given a ”group” project …

K-squared, as we liked to call the girls, turned out to get along so well that they not only began coming in on the same day at the same times, but they also worked their butts off in unison. We never once had a girl fight. Great! What more could a boss ask for?

Then, one day, one … snorted. No joke. Hilarious. By the end of Week Three one would get the other going and before you knew it, the estrogen ocean that became my little work sanctuary was loudly spilling into the hallway.

Today was their last day and I am honestly saddened by this – these two rocked! The third intern does too, BUT he is around straight through August until the end of the year. We can’t miss him because he isn’t going anywhere!

In loving memory of my ass-kickers I would like to share the lessons they taught me this summer:

1. Toledo spelled backwards is Odelot and pronounced O-DE-LOT.
2. In the event someone does not respond to an email, you can threaten to kick them off your team. (Ok maybe I got to teach them how wrong this is.)
3. Justin Timberlake is actually a very nice guy, but like a dog can sense fear – or maybe he has 20/20 vision and picks-up on girls shaking. I bet he has a lot of practice with that sort of thing!
4. The “younger generation” does not know who the American Gladiators are.
5. You can be 14 and snuck in places in our college town – Yes, this one forced me to leave the office because I was afraid to hear the rest of the story.
6. Bees do not survive in a basement.
7. Someone in the room will always be wearing heels and will be willing to give them up in the event a co-worker needs kicked in the butt, regardless if all parties involved know each other or not. In the event they have yet to be introduced, this is a great time to do it.
8. It’s not worth it to learn Spanish to graduate.

Now, if this was a real blog that more than two people read this would be the spot where I would ask for those out there cruising the information super highway to leave me comments on what their best/worst internship lessons were ... I bet someone would have some golden nugget - right?

Confession Eleven: I Heart My Brothers

The moment I stepped onto my mid-western campus as a college freshman I gained a characteristic that has come to define me to those who have attempted to date me, places I will and will not enter, my vocabulary, and my budding professional career. Furthermore, I have multiple brothers of all shapes, sizes, colors backgrounds and temperaments.

Seeing as I have never alluded to being the lost character on “Big Love” the question that I would expect to arise would be where did these “brothers” come from?

The easy explanation - they were on our football roster.

Throughout my undergraduate years I worked as a manager (read: COACH’S BITCH) for our football team and loved every second of it. I am one of the only people I know who have traveled with three bus loads of guys to a game and have had the pleasure of having each of them make fun of me for having toothpaste on my shirt at pre-game meal the next morning. Even more exciting, I have been told on more than one occasion when my messy ponytail was not as cute as it could be – usually the bow was crooked; faux paux! I truly believe my manly men were reading their girlfriends copies of Glamour, Cosmo and Vogue instead of Sports Illustrated and Maxium and I was living proof. Coincidently, these same groups of guys have been the ones to be shocked when I arrive anywhere dressed in something other than mesh shorts, a t-shirt, while lacking my signature ponytail and running shoes. Add make-up to the mix and the older ones heads looked eerily similar to the little girl from the Exorcist (in the spinning sense, not the puking one!)

Slowly, this trend, which also included 6’6, 300 lb. men scaring the living bajesus out of potential suitors in social settings, moved more from a little sister relationship to the big sister relationship more or less because my fatties (I worked with the offensive line and let me tell you, nothing makes a 5’8 size 8 girl feel better about herself than a bunch of teddy bears of that size.) were no longer older than me, but were in fact becoming younger than myself. The cute/funny thing about all of this is neither my protective, nor their protective vibes ever diminished. Awwww, my little cuties. I just want to hug each of the freakishly tall goobers … except when they miss a block, then I want to ring their fat necks but the problem is I can’t get my hands around them.

This weekend, I realized that my little brothers were all growing-up and there are just a handful of them still out there.

Weird.

My dynasty is dwindling. Its like the little football family tree is turning into a bush.

But one foot in the graduation grave means I still have five pretty manicured toes out of it. Enter: Sunday afternoon, the boys reported to camp which meant I was getting attacked when I wasn’t not looking … making fun of the camp buzzes … laughing at jerseys that have become too small (Oink. Oink. Piggy. Too Many Twinkies!) … and shuffling the guys through headshots as quickly as possible so that they can nap for a half hour before the team meeting. (Read: Standing on a chair and getting my point across – in my own special way. Ask some of the seniors what happens when you try to waste my time.)

Oh and bye the way, yes guys, you are welcome for that gift of sleep, consider it, an early grad gift … just don’t go too soon, I have too many games, tailgates and fall afternoons to waste on you losers – my Band of Little Brothers. :o)

Confession Ten: Some Days Not Even a GPS System Can Predict the Final Destination of Any Adventure

Friends … you pick them and most days, you aren’t sure why – but you love those select goobers anyways because they bring out the best in you and more than likely give you the best memories.

We all have THOSE days that turn into THOSE nights. They usually happen in college and are aided by some sort of liquid courage … then you pretend to grow-up and the liquid courage is not needed (nor really wanted in most cases), just stupidity and a sense of adventure.

As bad as it sounds, three of us comprise the “Oreo Cookie” … Harriet, me, and Peaches. We may not be the most politically correct group ever, but we work well together and though trouble manages to GPS itself to our group, we have never traded our "Polo’s and Manolo’s" for jumpsuits! Thank you God! Really, we would look like a hot triple tranny mess in one piece orange suits and I am not trying to trade my bangles in for shackles, okay? Plus, Peaches would whine on a daily basis that her hair needed to be did.

Like most of our adventures, our latest was unstructured, only slightly planned and started out on the wrong foot. Despite having a nice woman read mapquest directions from Harriet’s windshield, we were lost about 20 minutes into our two-hour drive Saturday afternoon. Maybe lost isn’t the right word … temporarily misguided may say it better. Long story short, CP and I went to America's Roller Coast once this summer (I think I might have mentioned that once or twice. “This one time, on our way to band camp …") and I more or less was convinced that route would take us to our destination. I think we were about an inch off of where we needed to be on the map. (Note: Consider a map, consider the scale, do the math. Any further north and we might have been turning the Jimmy into a mini-yacht.) Crisis #1. was later diverted because CP navigated us back to the main road and our route no longer smelled like cow, or alpaca.

Crisis #2 arose when we got to my sister’s house. Once again heavenly beings were on our side because despite TBS (the big sister) and fam not being home we were able to break in through the back yard. So maybe this was not that much of a crisis, but this was my chance to redeem myself. (Yeah, didn’t happen. I was totally still being made fun of – WHICH I DID NOT DESERVE! I totally got us to where we needed to be in the end and introduced an alternate route to the mix.)

Once we left the family, the night becomes a blur of randomness except for the once memory I can not stop flashing back to ... The Cookie was happily chilling (both hanging out and I was cold) at a minor league baseball game when the man in front of us stood up and showed us his home plate – and it was tight and quite possibly used to be white. For some season his belt did not get the memo that it was sunny outside and we got to the dim, saggy moon. I hope you all have a mental picture too - although it can't be as bad as the real thing.

More or less the rest of the night was an even screwier version of that instance. No one else dropped their pants, but a detour not only led us to, away from, and back to a wrong destination (thanks GPS! Wrong hotel!) it also allowed us to crash a wedding after party filled with what could have only been about 20 former Lax players/ex-frat boys – TEE.FREAKIN.HEE. Peaches and I were also given our shot at "ESPN's Dream Job" as we ran play-by-play as our third said goodbye to her long lost friend.

Shenanigans. There is no other way to describe the adventure; although one long car ride would work too! (Love ya girls!)

To recap, let’s set this night straight with a few lessons learned:
1. Listen to the nice voice on the GPS. If it asks if you want to take the toll road always answer Yes!
2. Much like Michigan has its strange “Michigan Left”, Cleveland has its own right turn. To accomplish such a turn you must be the first person in the LEFT LANE at a red light. After rolling to a stop, you must then play chicken in making said right turn with the traffic that is flowing from left to right. Do not signal that you are looking to make such a turn.
3. Say one wrong thing and you will never live it down. It is best to just sing with what is on the radio, especially when the song asks “Ladies” to shake their “bottoms” and let them see what you have. Also, dance while your friend’s mouths drop.
4. Annie said it best, “The sun will come out tomorrow …” and with my friends, you might just see that sunset and after one hundred random acts of stupidity, you are going to see that sun rise too!

Confession Niner: Baby Barrowing Does Not Look Appealing at 25 Let Alone 18

Admittedly, there are very few television shows that I make an absolute point to watch … “The Hills”, “The Bachelorette” and “Greek” would fall into this category and normally meant I was heading over to my friend’s ‘Village’ to watch – it was like our own little date night where we would yell and scream at the TV; this was so sacred even CP knew not to call between certain hours once a week. Surprisingly, it was amazingly therapeutic; especially when Graham Bunn was wondering around shirtless and grinning. (Yee Haw!)

This summer, I developed a full blown love for the experiment surrounding “The Baby Borrowers”. Quick synopsis of the show, much like all of NBC's other shows it was stolen from the BBC - is five barely legal couples are given a house, expected to act like adults and spend three days taking care of babies, toddlers, pre-teens, teens and the elderly. The teen couples are forced to act like real parents, actually work at pre-determined jobs and attempt to balance life – it was the ‘Real World’ drama minus the blatant alcoholism and threesomes. Wednesday night was the season finale and I cried, not because the show was ending, but because the elderly people were so darn cute and lovable. Each of them radiated love for their significant other and it was amazing to watch. The couples who were still together each had 60-plus years stuck to each other since walking down the isle! In Hollywood that would probably equal to the entire cast of every ‘Star Wars’ movie ever made, including extras and all of those behind the scenes … combined … twice.

At the conclusion of the show, the producers gave the obligatory updates on the couples and not one of them were still dating after enduring this social experiment together – how weird is that? Maybe it is because I am finally understanding what tools we all are in college and just how destroyed our views on relationships are, but I actually had a hard time wrapping my head around this. How is it possible to spend three weeks with someone, removed from all of the comforts of your own true home, work together, become closer, experience something most others are not given a chance to live (then legally walk way from) and just call it quits? In all seriousness, I would still be willing to baby sit (don’t look at me to spawn something anytime soon) with CP – as long as we could give the kids back, much like I do with my favorite little nephew. But my point is I am not sure if I am upset that these kids realized just how ready they weren’t to be grown-ups, or if I am psyched for them that their eyes were opened and there are going to be that many fewer children in the world born before they need to be to parents who can't take care of themselves let alone another human being.

Watching the show really made me think about if I had been ‘Baby Borrowing’ at 18-20 like these kids were and just what my experience might have been like … (if this was Wayne’s World, we would all wiggle our fingers and repeat the phrase Woo Dee Lee Doot over and over again until we were in a flashback.)

Woo Dee Lee Doot Woo Dee Lee Doot Woo Dee Lee Doot Woo Dee Lee Doot


First off, my partner more than likely would have been the fella who was lucky enough to share time with me for random months over a four year span. Neither of us knew what was going on in life, but we were both afraid to divide and conquer the world alone forcing us to make the other’s life miserable. No, John Hughes did not write our tale, it reflected more the style of Quentin Tarantino – instead of a tale of young love gone right, we were a mess of strange lines, a plot line no one could fathom and left our audience guessing after walking away from us. Today, we can both fully admit what a mistake this was and how it never brought out the best of either of us. Much like these young ladies, I can clearly remember talking to him, after a few hurricanes, and he had me convinced he was going to propose on my next birthday – I was totally excited and had not thought about what P-R-O-P-O-S-E would really mean! What they hell were we thinking even talking about all of that when we were more concerned with pissing off the other one on a daily basis? If memory serves me correctly, Coco had locked me out of the house because I was talking too much during her favorite TV program, “Law and Order”, and was using him to baby sit me. She, being my better half, would have made a much better mother, despite that one Brittany like act. Actually, if she and I were to both adopt plants tomorrow I am sure hers would sprout flowers twice before mine was even watered once; she just has that mothering instinct, mine might be just a little bit more dormant.

More or less, he and I would have turned the show into an episode of “Law and Order” (You’re welcome Coco, double your pleasure, double your fun!) because I am pretty sure one of us would have not come out of it alive; at the very least, one of us might have lost a limb and we could have been a knockoff of “Scrubs”. Maybe our track record does not speak well for us, (because it really wasn’t all that great) and we would not have been invited to do the show, but these other kids, I really hoped a few would have a chance and make it just a little longer.

Back to the show, I honestly think this was a great idea and is the one reality show that every high schooler/college student should be forced to watch.

In the event CP really does become governor (he is back to threatening once a week; I am back to mentally shopping three times a week – I still can’t make up my mind on the inauguration get-up.), I am going to ghost write write a bill (not sure if this is possible but I will make it happen somehow) that will push Sex Ed that much farther and make kids live this.
(I am thinking the outfit for the introduction of such a program is going to need some matronly support, maybe Barbara (the non-twin) will be my muse.) ... If we could only get Elle Woods on our side, we might get the right attention. I mean she did stop animal testing, this would be a piece of cake.

Confession Eight: Much Like A Collegiate RB, My Rants Peak Way to Early ... If At All.

I know there is a lot of bad television programming out there – I am looking your way Telia Tequilla, Flava Flave, and Brett Michaels – and depending upon the day, and who is controlling the boob tube via the clicker, I might have seen whole episodes (read: multiple seasons) of said crappy TV … then discussed it with the boys in my office.

In the grand scheme of things, last night was no different.

Luckily I can say I did not sit and fixate myself on the show I am about to mention, but, the crap was on as I finished reorganizing my apartment (I like to think it looks a little more grown-up now) … drum roll please … Celebrity Family Feud.

Quickly, the Family Feud hosts I can think of off the top of my head are as follows – that short loud guy, Al the Flannel Loving Sidekick from Home Improvement (nee Richard Karn) and the white haired guy with the radio announcer who played Elaine’s boss on Seinfield (CP would be MAD if he knew I couldn’t think of the guy’s actual name or his character.) – This season, Al Roker serves as the new focal point. Obviously, this eternally cool fraternity has NOTHING on the Skull’s - especially when it comes to power. I mean when you say something wrong in front of a Yale grad no big X and annoying buzzer jumps into your vision - Roker on the other hand, man I hope I am only right with him; three wrong answers and we are no longer friends!

On the show Roker is not questioning his sexuality, nor is he misspelling young females’ made-up names. I would bet though that his groupies do have one thing in common with those of the washed-up rockers who wear eyeliner – bloodline. Hear me out, it will totally make sense. Roker and his jolly laugh have to drive the ladies in the Old Folks Home crazy (in a good way, not what they take the pills for) … Michales on the other hand is the bad boy those women warned their daughters and grandbabies about. Seeing as there have been two complete seasons of Rock of Love, I am guessing neither generation of those once lovely young women didn’t listen to Roker’s Raisin Ranchers and are finding new (read: CREEPY) ways to reconnect and share life experiences (read: jell-o shots and boyfriends). See I told you I had valid logic! Wait a minute! Lightening is striking! Go with me here. I wonder if groupies are all the same and a class for geriatric cane dancing replaces hip (the verb not the body part), young, seductive pole dancing classes later in life; if not, I bet the financial possibilities are endless! OMG, I am not only cute – but I really am smart too!

As usual, I have digressed.

Let’s get back on track and examine the competition on this outstanding show … the Orange County Chopper guys (looking a lot less greasy. I think even Mikey showered for the show!), Margret Cho (VERY FUNNY female comedian, who, much like Bob Saget is better on HBO than ABC), Christopher Knight and America’s Next Top Wife as well as the Bersen's (The patriarch was once a star of the original Law and Order). Of the award winning cast I have mentioned thus far, it is one of Corbin Bernsen's family members who peaked my interest. Yes, with all those choices, below is who I gravitate toward.

I am pretty sure I knew this, but Oliver was introduced as a member of the University of Memphis football roster. (Insert Big Red X here!)

Seeing as I have an inkling of knowledge behind the inner workings of collegiate athletics, I would like to point out that this goober was wearing an untucked button down, which was opened enough that you could see his chest spaghetti poking out of his wife beater. Oh yeah, he was hot stuff. Top that with the fact that he was losing a battle with his electric shaver and I am guessing the tennis shoes he donned were courtesy of the football team. For being the oldest of three boys, two of which who dressed slightly better than the ‘Jo-Bros’ (I want to beat myself up for typing that. No more Disney Channel for me!), he achieved his goal of fulfilling the MEATHEAD stereotype. Look at you, Oliver, you are going to succeed in life. Good job buddy! What do you think he is going to do with all that trust fund cash? If I was a fortune teller, I would predict those aforementioned groupies – young and old alike – would be the answer to that rhetorical question.

In addition to critiquing his outfit, (Janice Dickinson has nothing on me) I began doing a bit of mental math – all of this before the first X (Whammies were so much cooler!) sounded on question one – he is an NCAA student-athlete, on a show where they are going to win money (for charity), and it is late July … 1. How is this legal through the NCAA? Must suck to be their Compliance officer and have the obscure answer to this! 2. More importantly, he should be reporting for football camp soon. Did his coaches really give him some time off to film a show?

Looking at Mr. Oliver Bursen I would guess he was a defensive lineman … looking at their roster I would not know because this putz is no longer listed! ... the reason ... He is now on UConn's roster (and he is a DL! Go me!). Total waste of a rant. Stupid proud papa announcing his first born was a player and ‘accidentally’ omitting the word FORMER! I not only wasted time trying to find this goober, but was on the wrong site. Even better once I went HERE he didn't even have a bio for me to read up to learn if he transfered from Memphis to Storrs, Conn. or if his father was just a crazy man. As sad as this is, it totally annoyed me. (Note: I know only three of my friends will feel my pain, but I had to share the story to give my neurosis a face.)

In all reality, I no longer care about this kid and as a DL realize unless he marries a QB's horsey looking sister (COUGH LAURA QUINN), no one is going to care about him anyway.

On a somewhat related note, I was forwarded a website that allows you to test your knowledge of college football helmets. Of the 100 listed, I got a 50-50 correct on the first set and 46-50 listed on the second set. Looking back on that previous comment about boycotting the Disney Channel, I might need to add ESPN’s College Game Day to that list – even though I heart Lee Corso, cute little grandpa – because I am pretty sure I am one of only about 45 known females who did not graduate from a school like Utah State, UAB, or Nevada yet can spot their helmets in a heartbeat!