Alabama looks unbeatable.
Ohio State looks close.
And I have no idea why I hate Tennessee as much as I do, but I just do. They are up there with Notre Dame as far as teams I hate.
Also, not enough of you read Gin and Tacos. It’s one of those inexplicable things- it is an awesome damned blog, and I read it all the time, yet I never remember to link to it. Now I have. Almost every post I walk away thinking “Wish I had said that, because I sure as hell think it.”
*** Update ***
I’m off to bed. I can’t even muster any enthusiasm to root against USC, because let’s face it, nothing done on the field by their opponents can match the dicking they got from Reggie Bush and company.
Also, I forgot to mention, no new evidence has emerged on our walks as to who the trash bandit might be. My money is on Rosie, but I have no proof.
Speaking of Rosie, I was chuckling tonight at how much she has inserted herself into my life. Lily will always be the one, but Rosalita has done her best to claim this as her home and me as her owner. It is now known by all animals in the house that the space between my legs on the la-z-boy is Rosie’s spot. Everyone else better step back. Also, she is just such a presence. Lily is so dainty and sweet, and quietly goes to bed, and then when I climb in bed, rearranges herself so she is right up next to me in between my chest and my right arm, and she stays there all night.
Not Rosie. Piglet waits until I go to bed, and then hurls her fat self (I will note that she has lost enough weight that she can jump effortlessly on to bed) on to the bed, and then plows through anything in her way (pillow, comforter, foot, Tunch) until she is sleeping in between my ankles. That is “her spot,” god damnit, and nothing better get in the way.
So it goes. There are far worse things than waking up with a stiff back because you were aggressively loved by two dogs and a cat and not allowed to move during the night.