I haven't died, I've just been dealing with academia, which always makes me wish I had died. Now if you're one of those people who just loooooooves college, I must respectfully request that you save it for another blog. No, really: Stop talking.

But now I'm not getting in until spring so my time is my own for the fall, mostly, and now that the stressful part's over--or at least delayed--I feel pretty damn good.

And it's raining. Let me explain what that means to me: It means I woke up this morning refreshingly not dripping in sweat. It means I went out for my morning coffee and smoke and it wasn't hot out. It means mean Mr. Sun has taken a vacation day and thank God for that because--with apologies to people who yearn for him and don't see him often enough--here in Dallas I see him way . . . too . . . often. I just need my space, Sun Guy, all right? And by the way, I think maybe we should see other people. Those clouds overhead, for example. I think the one in the northwest has his eye on me.

Oh my. I just realized I could bake to my heart's content today in relative comfort . . . so, ah, goodbye.

What, you need stuff to read? Fine: Register for the Atlanta-Journal Constitution and read about Jim Peacock's brush with fame (and if you're feeling sweethearted, email me the text of the article while you're at it).

Or read a delicious tale of coworker smackdown. I love when people bitch about their jobs. I get this from childhood, since "traffic" and "you would not believe what that #&!@ at work tried to pull today" were two favorite topics of conversation around the dinner table. Now as a child, this bored me; but once I had my own ultra-glamorous first job?--suddenly these stories became absolutely fascinating.

Rob longs for the start of football season, hates what's on television, and mourns the Olympics of yesteryear. Personally, I never had much idealism about the games; how could I, what with the eastern bloc always marking down the U.S. athletes and the U.S. always marking down the eastern bloc participants? It was all grudgematch, all the time, so far as I was concerned.

But I have watched some of the Olympics this year, and I normally always will make sure I catch some of the summer games . . . for the gymnastics. Shut up, I love that stuff.

I won't make any friends saying this, but I normally root against the U.S. women's and for the U.S. men's team. I just seldom see a U.S. women's team (women? They're girls) with any artistic interpretation to rival the competitors from other countries, and in women's gymnastics I think you need a little flair like that. You can't just bank on a Kerry Scruggs clone breaking her ankle every time. The men can get by on strength alone, but not the women.

Finally, this blog has again gone apolitical and is likely to stay that way for the near future, for reasons which one of these days I may get around to articulating clearly, but don't bet on it. In the meantime, this sort of hints at my problem . . . sort of. (Hey, and it gets bonus points for mocking that assclown Bennett. Yeah, Jim, that Bennett.) Sour as it is to say, I lately have this reaction when reading political blogs*:

My former editor Henry Copeland predicts the political blogs won't die after the election -- and he offers solid, grim evidence -- but I'd rather they die than continue on as lame copies of the shrill, humorless and worthless American Monopoly Daily Op-Ed Column Left / Column Right pages sitting in driveways throughout the country right now.

I have this reaction all too often anymore, which is partly why today's agenda is going to be heavy on the domesticity, light on the blogging. And of course you can always blame the rain. The glorious, wonderful, sunblocking RAIN.

UPDATE: Some other links: (1) No more Blogspot for the Food Whore, hooray! (2) the scariest aspect of this story is that after feeling the slip and the lurch and after being taken to the wrong floor, he got back on the same elevator; (3) Allison requests your participation in some butt exercises. (I just realized that Allison and I are practically neighbors. Scary, but in a cool way.)

PRAISE THE LORD UPDATE: The boyfriend made it into the Master's program at UT-Dallas. Now, when he argues with me, I might have to actually listen to his ass. (Congratulations, honey.)

*Except when I'm reading your political blog. Then I absolutely love-love-love it! Your political blog is freakin' awesome!

Posted by Ilyka at August 19, 2004 08:14 PM in navel gazing