The only bleeding done last night at the inaugural Georgia State University football game was by Shorter in a very lopsided 41-7 affair. What college, no matter how small, gets beaten by a commuter school team playing it's first game ever? I've seen high school football teams play better ball than the Shorter Hawks. In the past week!

The first play from scrimmage in GSU history was negated by a penalty, but the Panthers manged to end the drive with the first touchdown in school -- thanks largely to some major penalties committed by Shorter (including illegal participation and unsportsmanlike conduct penalties). Sure Shorter may be able to gripe about Georgia State running up the score a little bit, including scoring a touchdown with 8 seconds remaining in the game. But I'm not sure that you can hold that against the young GSU squad wanting to make a big splash in their first game.

This was the first trip to the Georgia Dome for my mother, a GSU alumnus. Judging by how clearly inexperienced the crowd of 30,327 was, I'd say that there were a lot of first-timers present. No one seemed to know when to cheer (the rowdy crowd caused the GSU Panthers at least 1 false start penalty) or boo (the crowd was especially unruly after Shorter's only touchdown and appeared to be booing the GSU defense). One student sitting behind me nearly went hoarse trying to explain to his neighbors the finer points of football, such as the theory behind Shorter's option offense, what exactly a fair catch was, and how teams change sides between quarters.

However, if the crowd was clueless, they were geniuses compared to the operations crew. I know that GSU has never had a football team before. And no doubt they were intimidated by the Georgia Dome facilities. But the entire affair seemed to be run by someone whose experience with college football was from a pop-up book he checked out of the library.

The school had a marching band that included electric guitar players, but only played songs that were popular prior to the birth of any of its musicians. There were fireworks for player introductions, but only two cones of intermittent sparklers being watched by two students with fire hydrants. They prepared some nifty videos and graphics to play on the "Panter-Vision" during key situations, but had no concept of timing and didn't even remember to warn us to drink responsibly until a quarter after the taps had closed. Key advertising partners had been selected for between-quarters entertainment and highlight replays, but no one seemed to think that it was a bad idea to allow a seafood restaurant to sponsor the "Six Feet Under Fan Cam." And the PA system was much, much too loud.

The highlight of the evening was a second-quarter video of a player who tried leading the crowd in a cheer. After the first pass at the cheer resulting in only half-hearted and murmured participation, in typical cheer-leading fashion, our video-taped ringleader encouraged the crowd to try again:

VIDEO-TAPED PLAYER: I can't hear you! 'G-S'...

CROWD (loudly): 'U'!

VIDEO: 'G-S'...

CROWD (louder): 'U'!

VIDEO: 'G-A'...

CROWD (screaming): 'U'!

In the moment of near total confused silence that followed, I looked at my mother and asked, "what the hell is a 'gau'?" My bemused mother replied, "I think they were supposed to say, 'state'." No one tried to lead the crowd in any cheers for the rest of the game.

Despite the many, many snafus, I think in the end a good time was had by all. Except maybe Shorter.

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True story: on Easter Sunday, I was awoken by my mother who excitedly notified me that I had been visited by the Easter Bunny. On the counter in my kitchen was a 1.69 oz bag of M&Ms and a purple plastic egg. "Open it," exclaimed my mom while pointing to the egg. So I did. Inside I found... nothing. The egg was entirely empty. "Why," I asked my mother, "did you wake me up to have me open an egg with nothing in it?" Replied my mother with a frown, "I was going to give you cash, but I ran out of money."

It's like an O. Henry story without the irony. And now you can probably imagine what my Christmases are like.

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I told my family that I couldn't think of anything clever to put on my blog today. "It's because you're not clever," said my brother. "It's because you're getting old," said my mother.

Supportive.

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For the first time in 2 years (more or less), I missed a day blogging yesterday. And I don't really have a good excuse.

I woke up and immediately found myself on an unexpected trip to Fry's Electronics to purchase a new television. Fry's , like the cosmos itself, is way too big to wrap your head around. I swear that place is bigger than the Hartsfield airport hangers. People just wander around lost in a sea of unending electronic goodies. Truly, it's the American Dream at it's finest/worst (depending on your point of view).

Finally finding the television we wanted (after consulting an aging roadmap, wandering for hours, and and finally gathering directions some friendly Bedouins), we left Fry's only to end up on an unplanned trip to my father's house. "If you're so close, you could at least drop by and visit your lonely old man," I think is a direct quote. Next thing I know, I'm helping dad with his livestock. Whoopee.

Four hours later, we returned home, only to be summoned to my mother's aid. Like my father, she was lonely. However, she didn't request our company, she demanded it, which was probably wise on her part. Mom came over and had dinner with us, and shortly thereafter fell asleep on my bed, right next to my computer. I certainly couldn't compose a blog entry with my mother sleeping, see? (I might be heartless, but I'm not cruel.)

So I was forced to spend the next several hours playing Half-Life 2 on our new HD TV before passing out on the sofa. I didn't mean to not post anything here, but you can see that events conspired against me. Please forgive me, I'll try harder next time.

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This year, ABC broadcast the annual Scripps National Spelling Bee with such innovations as pre-produced informational segments, competitor interviews, running commentary, and television time-outs. It was like watching a televised football game without any actual football. I recall watching once as some Fox announcers tried to spell the name of Green Bay Packer defensive end Kabeer Gbaja-Biamila before some organized football broke out and shut them up. No such luck at Scripps. The ABC commentators frequently stepped all over the children's frequently amusing banter with the official pronouncer (which, by the way, is one of the best job titles ever).

I can proudly say that I was able to spell two of the words on the program: "basenji" and "Rorschach." The first is an African breed of dog renowned for its lack of bark. And while the second is the name of the familiar ink-blot psychological test, it is also the name of a super hero. I'll admit that I failed to correctly spell "empyrean," despite the fact that it was the name of my High School's yearbook, so you can see where my interests lie.

I'd rather watch than participate in a spelling bee, mainly because my spelling has historically been so terrible. "You're a phonetic speller," my mom would always explain to me whenever I failed yet another spelling test in elementary school. When I would ask what that word meant, she'd tell me to "look it up." Parents can be so cruel to their children.

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I'm back, and I have some catching up to do, don't I?

First game of the UGA season: victory! Dawgs win, 35-14, over the Oklahoma State University Cowboys. Word on the street was that the Cowboys sold out every seat that we offered them. Quite an impressive display of fan loyalty, there.

I know it was the first game and all, but I was surprised that the lady who owns the season tickets in the row in front of me didn't recognize me. She recognized my brother, and remembered my mother and father, but not me. I must have gained a lot of weight since last year.

Second game of the UGA season: defeat! Dawgs lose, 16-12, to the University of South Carolina Gamecocks. The Bulldogs performance was utterly uninspired, and the generally low expectations for this year's squad were proven uncannily appropriate awfully early in the season.

The crowd was barely involved in the game. I don't know if we were too shocked or if we had resigned ourselves to the loss early. In last year's SEC home losses, the fans were behind the team until the final second. But this time we seemed to be as stunned as the players on the field that South Carolina, who most of us had written off as beneath us, was having their way with us. Damn you, Spurrier! >shakes fist in rage<

Of course, the NFL season kicked off this weekend, and my team, the Miami Dolphins, lost. The teams of my couch-mates, my brother and his girlfriend, respectively cheering for the Philadelphia Eagles and the New York Giants, also lost.

So far, this does not have the makings of a very good Batman and Football Month.

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My mother brought home two pilsner glasses that each have the phrase "I Guinness" printed on them. She's sweet and I know that she meant well. The only problems with this swell gift is that I don't drink Guinness, and I don't St. Patrick's Day.

And before anyone else gets me any more glasses with stupid slogans on them, let me be clear about this: I don't Canada Day, I don't Cinco De Mayo, and I don't Mardi Gras. Nothing personal, people, but I just don't need that sort of thing taking up space in my kitchen cabinet. I've got too many "I Batman" glasses in there already.

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My mother was cleaning out some old scrapbooks today and I found this ad in an issue of an 1967 The Daily Tar Heel newspaper from North Carolina:

Adjusting for inflation, those shoes should cost me over $50 today. Yet I can buy Nike-produced Converse Chuck Taylor All-Star high-tops for under $40 in local department stores now. That's a pretty good deal, really. Thank you, underaged, third-world sweatshop workers!

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My mother always said that if you don't have anything to say, you can always talk about poodles.

(Actually, mom said that about Scottish Terriers. She turned her car around in the middle of the street once because she thought she saw someone walking a Scotty. Turned out that it was. In fact, the dog's owner went to school with mom and recognized her. He had asumed that she had turned her car around to say hello to him. Mom was so embarrased that she hadn't recognized him and was only interested in meeting his dog. I was amused.)

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This past weekend, my brother and I were attacked by a spontaneously exploding tempered glass bathroom door that we were planning to install. (I blame witchcraft, I do!) My mother insisted that my brother go to the hospital to get stiches for his sliced hand. To cheer him up, I bought us Clue!, one of the very few "classic" board games that we didn't already own.

I had only played Clue! a few times, and I had certainly never won. Ever. So I was determined to win at least once. My mother, my brother, and my brother's girlfriend agreed to play with me. They were pretty good sports about it, too.

In the end, I made them play game after game for over 5 straight hours, until at last I won a game. I'm pretty sure that they let me win, especially since at one point my mother accused Col. Mustard of committing the murder in the Study with the Revolver when she was later revealed to have the Study in her own hand. But who cares how I won? I won! That's the important part. And everyone else was a loser! Ha! Take that, losers!

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