Harvest Moon

Eleven wins. That's all it will take to win the World Series. We can do this. Right?
The moon is beautiful tonight.
It's ugly most other nights.
Bobbie wanted $20 more in quarters today. Then she started rambling on about a million things, including how her family once butchered ten 300lb pigs one year and how she worked with sexually abused children.
My back just popped. I originally typed "pooped" but decided I should probably go ahead and fix that.
Somehow Daulton and I got into a conversation about how God talks to people. I don't know what started Daulton off, but I do know that Daulton couldn't comprehend the idea that when Christians discuss God "talking" to them, they might not necessarily mean it as a literal, audible voice.
I went up to Greenwood tonight to stock up on Howie's cat food. Mostly, I just badly wanted Chick-fil-a and came up with the cat food excuse. I also stopped at Half-Priced Books. It was a good evening.
I still insist that the Broncos suck. They have simply exchanged a horrific defense for a horrific offense. It doesn't matter how good your defense is, if you can't score. Even the best defense will give up the occasional big play. That's all the Cowboys would have needed yesterday to win. If McDaniels can get the Broncos to something like 12-0, I might start to change my mind, but he needs to get his team into the endzone more often. They say that defense wins championships. Baloney. The Colts (for example) would still put up three touchdowns on the best defense ever, and an average defense (i.e. the Cowboys) will keep the Broncos below twenty points.
Anna's fingers are flying across the old ivory right now. Am I the only person who is sad that pianos are no longer made with genuine ivory?
I'm thirsty. I forgot to stick another pomegranate green tea in the refrigerator, so I don't have anything cold to drink. I might die.
On my way back from Greenwood, I stopped at Target to get Anna another pillow. She likes those memory foam things. The packages say that they last for years. They lie. Those things lose their squishy in just a few months.
I prefer the most extra firmestest pillows ever, and I stack one on top of the other. I think it's just because I have a huge head, and it weighs a lot.
This might also be why I have a huge neck that doesn't fit in normal dress shirts.
This does not explain my gigantic biceps.
Jana asked me a few days ago about why there might be a sudden rush of births in September. Apparently people predicted there would be a great number of births in August as a result of Obama's election, but this didn't happen. And now September is full of new babies. I propose that there are several reasons for this. First of all, I believe that people were so depressed about Obama being president that they stopped procreating, but of course, depression can work as a prophylactic only so long. I also believe that babies who were conceived by liberal minded parents, in celebration of the election, are by nature smarter than their parents and haven't yet had the chance to be ruined by liberal thinking. These babies, then, realized who their parents had elected and did their best to stay in the womb forever. Unfortunately for them, nature must still take its course. Jana, you also asked whether or not the Christmas holidays might have effected this. I say yes, they too played their part. As evidenced by the last election, this nation is full of godless liberals. These godless liberals desecrated the Christmas season with their filthy deeds, and the result is a new generation in the hands of the most evil and deluded of people, Democrats.
In all honesty Jana, people didn't have any money to do anything special this past holiday season, so they stayed home and entertained themselves the old-fashioned way.
I do love the Broncos orange home jerseys.
People who read this blog: Aimee
Aimee and I went to high school together. Aimee hates it when people pop their joints. She'll gladly stab you in the back with a pencil to keep from having to hear you pop your back. If Aimee and Anna had a "who can be more stubborn and work harder at something" contest, the universe would implode. Aimee is a fellow English major, though now I believe she is actually working on some sort of medical technician type schooling. I guess she decided she wanted to make money in her lifetime. Aimee is married to another English major. I believe they have a dog. Last time I saw her, she also had weird bubbly eyed goldfish. Aimee prefers manly men, which I believe is why her husband could probably pass for a mountain man pretty easily. I would never bet against Aimee in a fight, even if she is obviously undersized and outmatched. She's too mean, and I wouldn't put it past her to fight dirty. Aimee used to want to be the director of the CIA. Heck, she probably is the real director of the CIA. If she wants you dead, you're dead. Aimee was our high school valedictorian. She roared during her commencement address. I think she tends to scare people. Our lockers were arranged alphabetically in high school and our last names combined with a small school size put us very close together every year. Apparently, I used to scare her by punching lockers. Now we're friends. Go figure.