Watched the Superbowl yesterday….sorta. Football doesn’t hold my interest very much these days. And what misguided marketing major thought that a bunch of people who are rooting for the Packers and the Steelers want to see the Black Eyed Peas and Usher at half-time? USHER?! There should be some sort of qualifier like, “If your song hasn’t been featured in a beer commercial, if you don’t have a guitar strap with the American flag on it, if no one is wearing a cowboy hat, then you are ineligible to perform at half-time.”

I remember watching football a little with my dad when I was younger, and asking him all kinds of questions about how the game was played. and that was kinda fun. And Brent Jones used to come to our church’s sports camp and sign t-shirts and talk about God and sports. That was super cool. But the football guys wear big helmets and outfits and you can’t really see them and get to know them like you can in baseball. And fall in love with them like I have with Brian Wilson. Sigh. I miss him. I miss baseball. I miss the Giants. I have no idea what to watch on tv anymore without Giants. I haven’t had a malt in forever. My legs are losing their bleacher-climbing strength and agility. This must end soon.

The lottery is open for opening day and night tickets…I’m so freaking excited. Jenna and I have tickets to about 20 games for this season so far, and are trying to figure out how to get to more, possibly via a roadtrip South OR to Colorado. We’re thinking big. When you have summers off, might as well shoot for the moon.

I’m trying to get to 100 Giants games by my 30th birthday, with the 100th game on my birthday or right by it. Won’t that be sweet? I am also trying to meet Brian Wilson by my 30th birthday, so that he can fall in love with me back and we can get married and make lots of babies. Anyone with any ideas on how to accomplish that, let me know. Those of you who can’t understand my obsession, look for a blog in the future that details the many reasons (16 so far) why Brian and I and his beard of Zeus are destiny. Perhaps if I dedicate several blogs to him, when he googles himself, my blog will pop up, and we can start online dating. I’ll have to get a Skype.

One of my students went to FanFest on Saturday and high-fived Wilson. She came to school today, and when I first saw her, cradling her hand to  her chest like a baby bird, I thought she had possibly broken a finger. But then she told me “I touched Brian Wilson on Saturday, and I haven’t washed my hand since, I was waiting to show it to you.” I was too touched to think it was gross and I immediately put her hand against my cheek and breathed it in. We laughed and sighed and I asked her if she’d told him about me, but she had been too shocked to mention her Latin teacher. Pout. She spent the rest of class writing with her opposite hand and opening and closing her backpack with one hand. It was hilarious.

I’m bummed I was too sick to Fanfest it up. But I’m thinking B Wils would not find boogers and a hacking cough attractive.

I’ve installed the “Days Until” app on my phone with the countdown until Opening Day…miss my black and orange black and orange.