Feeling: hoarse. too much "DE-FENSE!"
Listening to: Indigo Girls : Ten Thousand Miles
Reading/Watching: finishing Dragon Token. The storyline is getting really frustrating.

Puppy's team lost. To last year's state champs. Thus ending their season 12-1. It is very hard to see eighteen-year-old football players with biceps the size of my head, hugging my baby brother and crying.

He's disappointed, of course, but he's only a junior, so he's handling it. He was the one everyone else came to for comfort (although I speak from experience when I say: he may be difficult to hug when it's all 6'5" of him, but when he has those frickin' football pads on, it's impossible), and I'm just so proud of him. He always knows the right thing to say.

Although after spending a few hours on the bleachers in front of my older brother, I am very certain I would not be able to stand going to TAMU- especially not if even half the Aggies behave like him at a football game. He screamed at the top of his lungs, loud enough to get the rest of the stands going sometimes, and while it got funny after a while (he's so emphatic; it's scary and somewhat cult-ish), my ears are still ringing.

On the drive home, I passed five (yes, FIVE) police cars, either in the act of pulling someone over, or doing that condescending stroll up to the driver's window. Usually I can drive the whole 200 miles without seeing a single one. It is the thirtieth of the month. Whoever says the quota thing is a myth is completely deluded.

So what have we learned? Bring earplugs to playoff games, and only drive like a maniac during the first half of the month.

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