Dribbles

There's a high school football game coming up next week called the Big 33 Football Classic. It's the 50th game played between the best high school football players in Ohio and Pennsylvania. I always kind of dismissed it as more hype than substance. An excuse to party for a week, and one of those things riding on tradition. But I just read an article about it, and it said there has never been a SuperBowl without a Big 33 alum in it.

Huh. Who knew?

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The weather this week has been absolutely stellar. After last week's stifling 90-degree temperatures, we've been in the 70s all this week and down below 50 last night. We've had some rain, but nice rain, and some wind, but undamaging wind. And right now I have a perfect breeze and a kitty in my open window.

If only it could stay like this.

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Speaking of kitties...we've taken down the gate that kept them from coming downstairs into the finished basement. (Reference blogs from June to October 2006 and the Saga of the Carpet-Loving Cat) I can't tell if Frisbee has started peeing down here again, or if it's old odors, which tend to be pretty strong when I do laundry.

Anyway, the cats have been spending much of the day with me now that they can. And Frisbee has volunteered to be my paper shredder. I keep telling her I need those swim lesson forms, but she hasn't been listening well.

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Samhain Publishing is having a first line contest. I've been keeping track of the ones I like most. As of the moment I'm writing this, they have 204 entries. I've noted 18 that I like the most, but there are a lot more that are still really good.

Here's the really amusing part. Out of 204 entries, 27 mention death, not including those that use it euphemistically. That's 13%! Protagonists dead, dead bodies, angels of death, they've got it all covered. And only 14 entries (6.8%!) mention sex! Though a couple more mention condoms.

I wonder if the percentage will carry through to other rounds?

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The networks are trying to suck me in again. They cancel Jake 2.0, then dangle a similar premise (Chuck) in front of me and add Adam Baldwin, making it very difficult for me to ignore.

Worse, they do a remake of The Bionic Woman. Talk about the nostalgia card. I was Jamie Sommers. My best friend, David Pleu (Plue? Pleau? I don't know, I was six. It sounded like Ploo), was Steve Austin. And my poor baby brother was Oscar Goldman. Every time. He's still traumatized.

I'm holding to my vow not to watch any new shows at the beginning of the season, though. I will record them for a minimum of four weeks and listen to the buzz before I watch. If the ratings are low, I won't start watching until there are at least 13 episodes. Thirteen is enough to have some level of satisfaction and blunt the sadness. Less than that, for a really good show (i.e. Kitchen Confidential, which got 5 episodes before cancellation but made DVD and which I LOVED) just infuriates. And I'm done with infuriation.

It occurs to me that it's only new shows that networks yank unceremoniously. If a show gets a second or third or more season, they are allowed to finish it off. Even an early finale (ref. The O.C.) gets announcement and an ability to control the ending. Not, like, getting one of the main characters shot, cliffhangering the episode, and then terminating without notice.

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Okay, that's enough procrastination. On to Hummingbird!