Personal Dork Assistant

Sleepy Time

Jet lag in action:

• Go to sleep at 11pm = 7am Asia time. Can sleep for a little while because it's like sleeping in late.
• Wake up at 4am = noon. Because my body believes it's noon and it's time to get up.
• Toss and turn for a while until it gets around 6-7am = 3-4 pm, when it's time for a (afternoon) nap.
• Get up at 1pm = 9pm because that's about as long a nap as one can have.
• Start feeling sleepy again at 4pm = midnight because it's getting late.
• Take a nap and get up again at 6pm = 2am for a nightcap (a.k.a. dinner).
• Rinse, lather, repeat.

Good thing I've had a few days at home to adjust. Infusions of caffeine at the appropriate times help. Couldn't even keep track of the date, not until the weekend, anyway. Nothing like a few football games to get one into the weekend mood. Sam put money on the Cowboys to win over the Panthers at Carolina. Now, I don't take The Sports Guy seriously when it comes to actual sports knowledge, but Simmons was right on when he said:

Rule No. 1 applies: "Never bet on a shaky QB on the road."

Before you bet on Dallas, check out Quincy Carter's QB rating. Let's see: Quincy Carter (and his 71 QB rating) on a Saturday night, going against a quality defense on the road, with one of the loudest crowds in the league screaming on every play... and Parcells muttering expletives to himself after every incompletion. I think that qualifies.

Not that Jake Delhomme is all that, but he was playing at home. At least Sam wised up and went with Air McNair over Anthony Wright in the Tennessee-Baltimore game.

Now, TSG may not know anything about sports, but he knows all about being whipped:

My stepmom and the Sports Gal are stepping out of it. They're carrying Christmas gifts and food. Please note: The game is fucking [ESPN.com can't spell it out, so I will — me] starting. It's exactly 1:30. The timing wasn't just impeccable, it was downright "Biggie's last album being called 'Life After Death' "-level eerie. Of course, they're completely oblivious and could care less about the Pats, homefield advantage, my 75 different two-team teasers or anything else. Either we make small talk with them, or we're shoved in the doghouse like the Chazzes (Woodson and Garner) for the rest of the day.

(I mean... does this stuff happen to anyone else? Anyone?)

Haven't seen Holly in about two years, and God only knows where she's off to now that she's done with the degree. Of course, the one day we're both (barely) free is the day of the NFL Playoffs and the (other) college football National Championship game. Oh the sacrifices we make for friendship.