I had a little altercation this morning with some fellow fans. Doug and I were standing at the end of my driveway, talking, and all of a sudden a beer can lands at my feet. I look up at a truck that's waiting on the street to get into the lot at the end of the street. So I yell at him, "There's a trash can right there!" )And it really was right there, Doug's set up trash cans all up and down the street in hopes our neighborhood will be less trashed after football games.) "Pick that up!" He just looks at me with this shit-eating grin and doesn't do anything. So I march up, pick up the can and throw it back into his open window. I think I hit him or something, because the back door opens up and this blonde starts yelling at me, calling me a bitch. I reply, "I am. What are you going to do about it?" She's yelling at me all the way down the street, and I'm just like, "Sue me."

On my way home from the game, my neighbor Erika, the one who just had the baby waves me over, and proceeds to tell me about this band of hooligans (the people from earlier - who are like in their forties, at least, so you'd think they'd be, you know, adults - but what do I know, I retaliated too) who tried to trash my house by throwing beer and Big Ass Turkey Legs at my front door. This pisses Erika off, so she follows them, yelling at them, and they're yelling back, calling her a bitch, too, and saying they'll beat her down and stuff, so when they get to the lot at the end of the street, Erika gets the attention of the people who run the lot, who have no patience for surly drunks, and gets them thrown out. So they got kicked out of town. I like a happy ending.

And by the way, these little hand warmer things are about the best thing since sliced bread.