No Sappy Dreams Today

Slavery.  Sigh.  The cruel mistreatment of an innocent youth.  Yesterday I helped paint a house because I was carried away by the insanity of my parents.  I still have paint on my clothes and I can't get it off.  My favorite warm, nylon-y pants are ruined.  I thought I could keep the paint from showing by turning them inside out.  Alas, some paint did seep through.  Wow, this update stinks.  I'm just talking about how paint got on my clothes.

On to more intriguing matters.  Enough about me.  How about you?

Silence......

Wow, you're the most boring person I've ever met.  I sense a strong desire for you to do something, but your mouth is glued tight.  I wonder why?  :::suspiciousness:::  I think I should probably get back to me since you're not very intriguing.

I rejoice that football season is over for me.  I do not wish to be a mangled body trampled on and unconscious.  Hopefully the worst bruises will fade into wherever they go when they disappear.  My dad forced me to play football, although he claims that I wanted to.  Fathers.  Sigh.  They're not as good with feelings as mothers are. 

I learned a few things:

1. Never put your head down while you're trying to tackle.  (You could break your neck.)
2. For some strange, magical reason, when you're chasing the quarterback you somehow know when you're going to get him and when you're not.
3. How to pancake a guy and get many bruises on the way down.
4. When your dad really wants you to do something, there's no getting out of it.