Both of my brothers are safely here and my anxiety has gone way, way down. They’re talking football. I’m chiming in with MMA stuff when applicable. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, they’re in the same fantasy football league.
Our Georgia brother’s cat got bit by a copperhead. I think I mentioned that. Snake died. Cat lived. But the poor cat has a big hole in her lip now and our brother was telling us at dinner that, when she sleeps, the air whistling through the hole sounds like Darth Vader. But she’ll live and eventually heal up.
We should all be so lucky if we get bit in the face by a rattle snake.
–I love when someone says something like “You probably think I’m an alcoholic” when the thought never once entered your mind, because, damn it, now I wonder if I should.
–I love when people who have long ago flounced off the internet leave the shitty things they said about you up on their untended blog where everyone can find them. It’s like “I’ve long grown tired of the abuse hurled at me, but you should still have to take it.”
–I love when people go on and on about how they’ve been doing x for y number of years and how important they are in the field of x and when you try to talk to them about the people who are doing exciting things in x and they obviously don’t know who the hell you’re talking about.
–I love my failure to succeed at the only thing I love.
–I love that my definition of “success” is so fucked that I can’t just enjoy my actual success.
–I love that my back still hurts.
–I do actually love the new Scott H. Biram video and I too, want my mojo back.