Opening round

Congratulations, Jan Koller and the Czech Republic, for the Euro 2008 opening match win. Granted, Switzerland are terrible, but you were in their house and all. Good luck Wednesday against Cristiano Ronaldo and Portugal, my friends.

One of the things I had forgotten that I love about soccer is the Scottish on-air crew. There's usually at least one guy with an accent, and when he's doing play-by-play you never see him, so you can always picture Gerard Butler speaking to you, shirtless, making you creme brulee or something. Even when you see the guy (like today), and he's pudgy and bald, it makes him just a little sexier. Sigh. GO SCOTLAND. Oh, wait, they're not in Euro...

The Tuesday Tattoo

Everybody was tattoo-fighting.. aren't the Swiss lovers, not fighters? What precision; check out the stick height and stick flashes. These guys even have their own line of sticks...

Imaginary friends can be more fun

Or at least that's what this web series is saying. I stumbled upon it, and holy God, is it funny. Being a single girl in a sea of coupled-up friends, there were plenty of "hell yeah!" moments for me. And for those of you who were part of the "bitch name" conversation so long ago, note the first imaginary friend's name. The moral of the story: when you're single, you almost always feel like the odd person out. Some of us are apparently more odd than others.



Check out the rest of the eps at imaginarybitches.com.

Shia's last name makes me giggle

Pretty much how I feel about the new Indiana Jones:



I'm not going to bust out any spoilers, but let's just say the supernatural element that's in the other movies is just too much for me to swallow in this one. As my friend Addie says, "TRISTE!"

The Tuesday Tattoo

A shout-out to Dr. Jenny Mann: ROLL TIDE!

Raiders, march

So I tried to organize a band of folks to go see the new Indiana Jones tomorrow. Response was tepid, because everyone wanted to see it with their spouse or had already seen it or heard that it sucked, but I'm going anyway. This time it's really not about the gang, it's about seeing the latest installment of a movie series I positively adore (well, except for Temple of Doom). And apparently it's supposed to springboard Shia LeBeouf's character into an adventure series of his own. Rock on.

I have to say, though, that every time I try to slate something, especially during the day that doesn't involve adult beverages and staying out 'til 4 a.m., and the majority are all, "Mehhh," it really makes me want to quit suggesting anything.

We need a cruise director, dammit. And maybe some social initiative.

I must be doing something right

I've had about 5 hours of sleep, and am currently debating about whether to go to the gym. And here's the backstory.

Lori emailed me last night because our friend Meghan was throwing our friend Addie a party for her nuptials this weekend. Originally it was at a restaurant, but Meegs shifted gears and decided to host at her casa. I was up, doing my "last night off" thing, which includes loud music in my headphones and about 20 different tasks on my computer, and Lori wanted to make sure I had the 411 and was coming. So I asked her to give me a wake-up call at 10 a.m. to get my butt moving.

Now some of you may think, "Gee, that's kinda late to get up," but consider that I didn't even hit the pillow until about 4:30 a.m. at the earliest. Plus the usual tossing and turning at 8 a.m. when the kiddo upstairs awakes and starts sprinting around the house. So 10 a.m. came pretty early, but I cruised to the party. It was lovely, if you were wondering.

After the party, and here's the crux of the story, I went back to Lori's to hang until she had to leave for work. She just got a Wii Fit, and has been hearing about Raeanne's crack-like fixation with hers. One of the things you do when you set up a profile is do a bunch of testing to determine your "fitness age," rather than chronological. Ladies and gentlemen, my fitness age is 31, three years younger than I am. Hell yeah!

So that's why I'm seriously considering going to the gym, despite the fact that I may actually fall asleep on one of the cardio machines. Consequently I should pick the ones you sit down on, rather than the treadmill, which I would stumble and face-plant on, or the elliptical, which would thwap me in the head with the hand thingys when I snoozed off and let go. Let hilarity ensue....