Happy Thanksgiving and such forth, ladies and gents.

I figure with December looming I ought to make an appearance. Also, I am bored.

It's been an exciting month. For the first time in my life, I went to Soldier Field and saw a Bears game. It was fantastic up until the point where it turned into a Dolphins game. ouch. But the inside of Soldier Filed is quite nice these days, great view of the field. I went with Zach, who purchased a ticket for his dad, who was unfortunately unable to make it up to Chicago. Tragically, Zach is a Dolphins fan, so much so that he was willing to strap his Dolphins wall-clock to his chest when he couldn't find a jersey (The city was utterly devoid of Miami gear). I was wearing a newly-purchased Bernard Berrian jersey; Berrian was of course injured on his first catch of the day. Nevertheless, it was overall a good day. Consider this wisdom from Zach: "A screwdriver is a breakfast drink; it's got orange juice"

Additionally, I will get around to posting more poetry eventually, but in theory it should be somewhat less embarassing, as most of it has been run through the gauntlet of CRWR 130: Intermediate Poetry Workshop. This has been great, because it's pretty much the only class I have where I can talk to people, and the only class I have that, under the right circumstances, consumes 4 bottles of wine among 9 people. Anyway, I wrote a sonnet (sort of) that's mainly about designer drugs ("I think we called it nuclear wintergreen"), although I don't know how that's been received yet.

I seem to have retained some vague skill at fencing, despite not going for a year; being tall and semi-gangly is a significant advantage though, as is being left-handed (woo!). I probably should have stuck with baseball too, but then again, Little League was boring as all hell. That aside, I went 4-2 in our intrateam tournament the other week, so there's hope yet.

Man, there are a lot of Bond movies on TV right now. Which reminds me: I've seen Casino Royale twice already, and I quite like the new direction Bond is headed. For once, a svage beating to the testicles is a good omen.