Last night we saw the Florida Gators beat the Kentucky Wildcats. They didn’t play as well as I would’ve liked, but they did win, bringing their season to 4-0. Good times.
We watched the game with some friends at Buffalo Wild Wings Grill & Grill. That’s how it’s listed in Google.
Since Troy and I have the typical testosterone-driven tendency to try and out-whatever each other, it was no surprise that we simultaneously looked at one another while perusing the menu, and quietly understood that we were going to sample their hottest wings.
A nun approaches Mother Superior and say, “Mother, I must make confession to you. I have used the Lord’s name in vain, and used all manner of foul language.”
an Argentine talk show host. America’s rather fond of candy-coating its news, so why not with a more interesting host? I bet ratings would skyrocket, grow larger, swell, surge… well, you get the idea.
It has been determined by a non-scientific study, conducted by yours truly, that everyone’s favorite television grandpa, Wilford Brimley, actually does pronounce “diabetes” correctly… with a long E. His awesome handlebar moustache, is the culprit.
Earlier this afternoon, I’m eating my steak grilled stufft burrito and flipping through the news. No more than 30 seconds of watching, I nearly puke my burrito all over the coffee table when Martha McCallum, reading for the viewers (because they’re blind and/or stupid, watching Fox News) a graphical analysis of some American opinion poll about Iran, says, and I’m not making this up: “61 percent of Americans feel they should not tell their enemas when they’ll be leaving.” She quickly corrected herself, and managed to keep a straight face. I however, had trouble swallowing my lunch I was laughing so hard.