My poor dog

It's game day in Chapel Hill.

Which means two things: A, parking downtown tonight is going to be a bitch (don't care! Going anyway! Dragging all of my local friends with me!); and 2, people keep setting off cannons and fireworks and generally making lots of noise. Maggie is not pleased.

Apparently we're narrowly losing with 3 minutes to go in the 3rd quarter. Although, that burst of gunpowder and rah of cheering tells me we may have just fixed that.

I wish I had more "school spirit." Mostly, I view football and basketball games as impediments to my ability to get around where I live and work.

I'm finally ready to go to dinner. I've been putzing and primping and fussing and swearing (I still can't find my stupid green sock) for over an hour. I'm wearing my favorite but most uncomfortable footwear and a new brown sweater. And I just called Ruthie, who's responsible for getting me there tonight, and said, "Um...so when are you picking me up?" And she said, "Oh....one would think it would be soon, since we're supposed to be there at 6...how about 6:15?"

I said, um, dude, no. How about 6?

We'll see how it goes....

Tonight's going to be fun. We're going to dinner, and then drinks down the street (maybe I'll take different shoes....just in case). Because I'm getting old! I'll have a full report later...or in the morning...or after I recover from my hangover.....