(Andy Whitfield: I miss the guy.)
Yesterday, I made eggs and hash browns for dinner. The meal was surprisingly good. I hate cooking. I don't possess the patience required to fry or bake food.
The Dragon Lady is still in Pusan with her family. She called this afternoon. I have a nasty cold, and everybody is worried about me. Perhaps I'm dying.
I hosted a Spartacus marathon. I watched all thirteen episodes of Blood and Sand. Andy Whitfield's premature death weighs heavily upon my soul. He was such a handsome stud. If life can crush Andy like a bug, what chance do I have?
I drank coffee and read the paper. President Park is invoking the memory of Abraham Lincoln. She wants a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. Her daddy was the peninsula's most beloved dictator. He was shot in the head while drinking Chivas Regal. No joke.
Both the Broncos and the Packers lost their playoff games. I'm very surprised. I had them going all the way to the Super Bowl. Poor old Smith isn't exactly Harvard material. I never get anything right.
Peyton Manning's interception at the end of the contest didn't surprise me. However, the fact that Champ Bailey and the Denver secondary were thoroughly schooled by the Raven's receivers absolutely blew my mind. The league's number two defense left a giant turd out on the field.
I didn't go to church. My wife has the car. I hate to miss. The pastor is very entertaining. His sermons fill me with wonder and curiosity. He doesn't dumb Christ down.
It's currently 3:53 p.m. I'm all alone in my Soviet-style concrete tenement. What a drag.
Anyway, talk to you later. God bless. And go Texans.