I wasn't going to post today, but...but...I cannot......escape........the.. blogosphere's.........gravitational... PULL!!!!
Saintseester asks one of the most pertinent of all the NFL draft questions to date.
My gal Missy from the Midwest posted a real beverage-snortin' funny in her neck of the woods (adults only, y'all).
Various NOLA blogpocheh menschen are posting about the unclaimed overseas aid that this country coulda used to help rebuild New Orleans. Yep, this is what happens when a city is left to die a slow, agonizing death.
And, finally, I know I haven't been amongst the most sterling of parental examples in this world. Dan and I have taken the little guy to many places in this life - bar-hopping in Manhattan, a sports bar in Mobile to watch a Saints' game, good eatin's at a Biloxi casino, even - God help me - a local Hooters - but somebody tell me why one person's home can make all of the abovementioned places seem like Chuck E. Cheese's? If I'd have known this woman's house we were visiting was more like a museum than a home, I wouldn't have brought my son in the first place. Granted, all he broke was one of these, but the lady of the house treated it like it was a one-of-a-kind objet d'art. Yes, he needs instruction in the finer points of respecting other people's property and things, but it wasn't easy punishing him for breaking the thing....because I was inwardly cringing at the presence of it in this lady's garden. If I ever get that het up about that kind of stuff, someone needs to give me a swift kick in the rear.