September 17th, 2002



As soon as it’s fall, Sunday is Man-Day, which is short for: Man-Planting-His-Fat-Ass-In-Front-Of-TV-All-The-Livelong-Day. You’ve got the NFL in the morning, afternoon AND evening, followed by "The Sopranos" and "Curb Your Enthusiasm."

I have mostly negative feelings about "Mind of a Married Man," which falls between my two favorite HBO shows, because it’s such a miserable attempt to be the male answer to "Sex and the City." Plus the main character’s whiny and indecisive – the two best reasons on this planet to bitchslap somebody. But it does serve as some sort of a public service announcement about how truly horrifying wedded life is. And so I watch.

Fall has started off painfully for me, though. Stanford lost its opener to Boston College. And the Steelers… the fucking Steelers are 0-2, which mirrors the record of my fantasy football team (Damn you Corey Dillon. Damn you to hell!). If you saw this past Sunday’s game against the Raiders, it looked as if the Steelers were intentionally trying to lose just to spite me.

A few more games like that and I’ll be doing my annual contemplation, where I consider giving up sports for something less spiritually wrenching like salsa dancing lessons.

Below are some pics from my birthday thing, back on the 7th. The awkward jumble of images more or less reflects my memory of that evening…