Wednesday Morning QB

When in Rome...

It would appear that this year, I will be forced by geographic proximity to root for the San Diego Chargers in the playoffs. The thought itself makes me nauseous.

'Cassel' in the Sky:

Much to my dismay, Matt Cassel did not turn out to be the second coming of Tom Brady, try though he may. Truth be told, he didn't do a horrible job, but with an offensive line that was tailor made to fit Tom, he did the best he could. I'm wishin' and hopin' that Tom Brady is back on the field next year, however.

Leavin' on a Jet Plane:

Hahahahaha. Eric Mangini. Hahaha. Oooh. Hahaha. Hahahaha. Ha. Hum.

Leave It to the Pros:

The 2010 Pro Bowl will be moved to Miami and be played one week BEFORE the SuperBowl? Whaaaaaaaaat?

Rocky Mountain High?

After 14 seasons as head coach for the Broncos, Mike Shanahan was kicked to the curb after failing to make the playoffs for the third consecutive year. There is something seriously wrong with the Broncos' management, and I hope some amazing team team snatches him up quickly.

Cowboy Up:

Mike Shanahan should not have been fired. I think Wade Phillips, however, has some 'splainin to do.

Meanwhile...

I'll be in mourning until September.

Tweens Beware

It would seem that this guy feels the same way about The Curious Case of Benjamin Button as I do about LOST. Except, you know, I would only THINK about doing it, and not ACTUALLY do it. You know.

I'm Dreaming of a ... Playoff Run

Next week could be one of the only times that I will root for a New York team.

I don't pretend to understand the processes through which playoff runs are decided. All I know is that Miami and Baltimore have to lose in order to give my beloved Pats a chance at a few games in 2009. How that all came about, I don't know. I don't really understand how Miami and the NEP have the same record (10-5), (with the Jets at 9-6), and of the three, the Pats are the team that stands the most the lose. (Mattie, give me a hand here.)

Other things I don't understand (in no particular order):

1.) Why the making of a snow angel is grounds for a 15-yard penalty.
2.) Why, with a 41-0 lead in the third quarter, the starting QB was still in the game.
3.) Why the Good Lord saw fit and deprived MKO and me from our weekly does of Tedy.
4.) Why Brett Favre was named to the the Pro Bowl.

Answers from people more knowledgeable than I are most welcome. :)

Wedded Bliss

Excuse me whilst I barf. (As I'm repeatedly told by my husband, I'm so unromantic.)

Today is my and Ian's three year wedding anniversary. Thanks to the Marine Corps, we have spent this day together only once. (And that day was actually my due date, and we spent the evening at my company Christmas party, where I got to watch everyone else get drunk.) Yet in spite of all that, the past three years truly have been some of the best in my life. Recap? OK.

December 18, 2005 - The Newlyweds drive to NYC for their honeymoon in Bree's grandfather's Buick. They split the driving, but somehow, Bree ends up driving the last leg through the city. Screaming, wailing, gnashing of teeth, and threats of divorce ensue.

December 19, 2005 - Bree comes down with The Plague.

December 19-21, 2005 - More wailing and gnashing of teeth. But hey, if we were going to be stuck inside, at least it was a nice room (Renaissance Hotel in the middle of Times Square). Yeah, Marriott Discount!

December 21-24 - Did I mention that we were visiting NYC during the transit strike of 2005? This severely limited our excursions to those things within walking distance. We did share a cab with some interesting folks out to Ellis Island, however. We got to see some awesome shows (Rent, The Producers, I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change), went to see David Letterman, and took in the sights.

December 25, 2005 - Bree refuses to drive in the city again. Makes Ian drive first leg back to MA. Streets are obviously deserted, and this is the easiest drive EVER.

December 31, 2005 - The Newlyweds celebrate NYE with friends in Manchester. Little Purple Hands!

January 1, 2006 - Bree drives Ian to MHT airport to catch a flight back to to Pensacola. Ian, having been "overserved," didn't come to bed until about 1.5 hours before we were supposed to leave for the airport. As a result, he is sticking his head out of the car window on the way to the airport and hiccuping through the security line.

Mid-January 2006 - Bree packs up her U-Haul with all her wordly possesions, grabs a co-worker to drive it for her and makes her way to Wilmington, NC, where Ian will be stationed at MCAS New River. Ian and Bree ("Bree-an" from here on out) settle in to their new place, and go about their new lives together.

Mid-March, 2006 - Oops! Is that a plus sign?!

Mid-July, 2006 - Bree-an's lease comes up, and Ian is supposed to finish up training any day now. Bree-an moves into their friend Shaun's beach house.

August, 2006 - 5-months-pregnant Bree and Ian begin their drive West. Before they can leave the house, however, Bree leaves her cell phone locked in Shaun's hosue. The drive "West" goes something like this: North Carolina, Washington, D.C., Boston, Maine, Toronto, Ohio, Missouri, Amarillo, Flagstaff, San Diego. 4 days of searching yields an overpriced apartment in Del Mar.

December, 2006 - One year of wedded bliss. 32 hours of contractions, 3 hours of pushing and voila! Aaron Patrick Brown, in all his glory.

August, 2007 - Sick of the overpriced apartment in college-kid ridden hell, Bree-an and offspring move to an overpriced townhouse.

September, 2007 - East coasters invade and successfully surprise Ian on his birthday.

October, 2007 - Ian deploys for Iraq. One day later, Bree and Aaron evacuate their home from SoCal wildfires threatening San Diego.

December, 2007 - First anniversary solo. Aaron's first Christmas and birthday in New England.

May, 2008 - Ian returns from Iraq!

July, 2008 - Bree-an buys their first home together.

December, 2008 - Ian is away at a three-week training in Yuma, AZ, and Bree spends the second of three anniversaries solo.

So there you have it. Through all the ups and downs, however, we still have the best time. Ian makes me laugh more than anyone else I know (with the exception of those Peyton Manning MasterCard commercials), and there is no one I would rather wait for to come home. I'll always be waiting, and I'll never stop loving you, Ian. I love you. Happy Anniversary.

The Sounds of Freedom

By now, I'm sure you've seen the news about an F-18 jet that crashed into a residential neighborhood here in San Diego yesterday. (And for those of you who called me personally to confirm that all was well, thank you!) This event, while extremely unfortunate and not without consequence, does not, however, deserve the public's further scorn of military personnel in the area.

Reading some of the comments left on blogs and articles reporting on this tragedy quite honestly make me sick. I am sure that the pilot, who would have received an extensive amount of training before ever setting foot into that aircraft, did everything he could to protect not only his life, but also the lives of innocent civilians on the ground. When there are no functioning engines on an aircraft, there is no power to that aircraft. Without power, that F-18 was no more than a falling rock, and, try though he might to angle the trajectory of that rock into an uninhabited area, there is only so much he could have done.

The answer here is not to relocate Miramar, as so many have voiced their support for. Nor would it be prudent to convert Miramar into a commercial airport. (Because really, when a 757 crashes into your house, it's not going to be 4 lives that are lost, it's going to be about 400.) Pilots are not infallible human beings (though they sometimes like to think so), and paining this young man in a negative light is almost inhuman. I'm sure the knowledge that 4 people are dead as a result of his aircraft's malfunction is something that will weigh heavily on his mind and the minds of many for quite sometime. The pictures of him on his cell phone immediately following the crash are not reasons for his crucifixtion: no doubt, he was calling military emergency crews to the scene, not calling his drinking buddies with a "Duuuuude...." story. And the fact that the military currently has jurisdiction over the crash scene is not something that is being done to "cover up" what really happened. On the contrary: this was a MILITARY exercise conducted by a MILITARY pilot that went unspeakably wrong. And it will be the MILITARY that finds out what exactly that was. So back off.

And, P.S. San Diego, should you be successful in your push to relocate Miramar, don't you dare open your mouth to complain when those helicopters with their ability to dump thousands upon thosands gallons of water on your burning county in the middle of fire season are hundreds of miles away.

Tagged

My friend Lois tagged me, and now it is my turn to list 7 random things about myself:

1) I silently count stairs as I walk up and/or down them. I think I may have fallen down the stairs or something as a child, but for as long as I can remember, I have counted stairs. If I know how many stairs there are, I won't be in danger of missing one. 

2) I memorize license plate numbers. When I was growing up in Georgia, the plates there had 3 numbers followed by 3 letters separated by a space. Since many of my friends had similar cars, I could tell whose car was whose by the plate number. Plates in CA are a bit different, usually one number, followed by 3 letters, and 3 more numbers, with no spaces in between. 

3) I silently correct the grammar of anyone to whom I speak. You'll know we are true friends if I correct your grammar out loud. 

4) I cannot stand to have unpainted toenails. Even if it's clear, I must have toenail polish on in order to function. I have had some sort of toenail polish on my toes for at least the past nine years. 

5) I have a very specific way of eating a cupcake. I usually lick off most of the frosting until there is just a little bit left. Then, I remove the bottom half of the cupcake and put it on the top half, and eat it like a sandwich. 

6) I have a freckle in my eye. In it. On the very bottom of my iris of my left eye, there is a little dark spot. In college, I knew someone with two different colored eyes, so I felt slightly better about my eye weirdness once I met her.

7) Until Ian brought home his X-Box from Iraq, I had never owned a video game console in my life. Prior to playing Guitar Hero, the only video game I had ever played was Frogger, and that little bastard never once made it across the street.

Now, I TAG: Meghan, Andrew, Ian, and Steph. 

Saturday at the Movies...

I think I spent more time watching movies today than I have in the past month. Ian granted me a reprieve this afternoon, and I caught a matinee by myself. (Note: By Myself = awesome. I'm not one of those people who has a complex about seeing movies alone. In fact, sometimes, I rather enjoy it.) So I headed downtown (downtown Escondido, which is far less interesting than downtown SD) and saw Changeling, starring Angelina Jolie. I had been wanting to see this movie for awhile, but could never convince Ian that he wanted to see it, too. Finally, I stopped trying to convince him. Anyway, the movie was good, but it was long. I kept expecting it to end, but it just kept going. Parts of it were pretty disturbing, too. The basic premise (SPOILERS ahead, be ye warned) is that Ange, a single mom in the late 1920s, goes into work her shift, comes home and her son has disappeared. She reports him missing to the corrupt LAPD, who eventually return a boy to her whom they claim is her son. She knows that the boy is NOT her son, says so, and then the LAPD calls her crazy and shuts her up in a mental institution. She eventually gets out, goes public with her story, frees all the other inmates who have been committed by the police, and testifies against the Captain who was handling her case. At the end: no son. Long movie, and no happy ending. Lois would have been so pissed.

And speaking of Loie, that wonderful gal let me invite myself over to her place this evening to blow off some steam. We drank so margaritas and rented Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Now, this movie was something I had wanted to see, but figured it would be one of those flicks that I added to my Netflix queue instead of shelling out $10+ to see it in the theatre. And, truth be told, while everyone else is busy killing themselves laughig over Judd Apatow's movies, I, to this point, have been rather unimpressed: The 40-Year Old Virgin? Eh. Knocked Up? Not so much. The one (obvious) exception to this, however, is Anchorman. But I digress. Forgetting Sarah Marshall was really pretty good. There are a lot of good jokes, and although I did see waaaaay too much of Jason Segel's penis to be able to sleep peaceably ever again, it was, overall, a pretty good movie. And, from me, that is a glowing recommendation.