The morning sun is shining like a red rubber ball.

Certain readers have expressed an interest in reading a brief recap of Sunday's game. The way I've been telling my friends is this:

There is a mercy rule that says you can call the game if you're 12 runs behind or more. They told us about it at the end of the first inning, because we were 11 runs behind. There are five innings. The game is 45 minutes long. We shaped up a bit after that, but the score (which refs stopped counting after 20) was 21-1. Eek.

The blurb I wrote for the newsletter was this:
What can we say? What we lack in sheer talent we make up for in enthusiasm! It goes without saying that our MVP would be the scorer of our one goal, Greg Kindel, but that doesn't mean that we weren't all thrilled to be playing the game for the first time since Jurassic Park came out! We denied the mercy rule, which was offered to us at the start of the second inning, for the love of kickball. Thanks to Josh Lavin and Seth Opitz for stepping up to the mound when the rest of us were mildly afraid, and a very special thanks to all Lemurs that showed up and waited in the rain for two hours with nothing but Irish coffee to warm them. A good time was had by all, and we look forward to being pantsed by Fourth Base this Sunday. It is also worth mentioning that our kickball skills cannot hold a candle to our staggering flipcup ability.

It was fun. I'm looking forward to tomorrow's game.

And now to get some color, so I don't blind the field tomorrow or next week, and so that I don't blind the nation of France in THREE WEEKS.

I bring you good cheer...

Huzzah!

My computer is back, functioning at full capacity! I am pleased to announce to my two or three remaining readers that I plan on writing a whole lot more, starting today. This coincides beautifully with the end of my class for the semester, and the start of an official summer off...from school.

While I do plan to spend four hours less of my week in Boylston Hall, possibly just as much time will be used at Nunziato Field, on the corner of Summer and Vinal, in Somerville. My friend Sarah and I started a kickball team, the Space Lemurs, as a part of the Minuteman Division of the World Adult Kickball Association. In addition to our captainly duties, causing a ruckus with our team (of 20!), and generally losing every game we play (but with gusto, because we know what we're getting into), Sarah and I have also joined our division's board. She is our charities chair, as I am the editor of the weekly newsletter, Ghost Man On Third (GMOT). I'll let you know how that goes.

Our first game is tomorrow, it's rainy and too cold to be spending multiple hours outside, and our team shirts are a) not in the color we wanted, and b) not available til next week. I can't say I'm terribly optimistic, but I'll be there at 1:30, as planned. With many layers of clothing under my brown Pink Floyd shirt from Target. Why doesn't anybody sell brown shirts anymore?

GO SPACE LEMURS!

Say it ain't so!

Tell me a drag queen didn't win America's Next Top Model and that Melinda did not just get kicked off American Idol and that Bob Barker is not done hosting"The Price Is Right"!

This is why I try not to sit down and watch TV.