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Finished the midterm with twelve hours to spare.  An accomplishment, indeed.  To meet my agreement for a post-test-post, I'm going to shower you with a little bit of vintage pony goodness.  An authentically new post will appear once I've caught up on my sleep, showering, and daytime TV.

In honor of the World Series, what I learned during my unwilling witness of the 2003 baseball playoffs: 

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Wednesday, October 15, 2003

reality tv has taken a backburner in my tv viewing lineup.

goodbye "newlyweds." hello baseball.

due to several mitigating factors including my intense desire to conquer one of mr. feeny's multiple choice tests of doom and the overabundance of fun and distracting things to do at the sorority house, i've been spending a lot of time lately at the home of my three best guy friends.

and apparently, guys don't watch "newlyweds." i know, i'm shocked too.

at first, i put up quite a bit of resistance to having every single tv in the house locked on the baseball playoffs. as a diehard football girl, i found myself unable to concentrate on a game where the majority of the players are standing still. but after being forced to watch a few games, i decided baseball did have a lot to teach me. a lot indeed.

8 things i have learned about baseball during the playoffs.

1. some teams in baseball are cursed. one team is cursed because they traded babe ruth and another team is cursed because they wouldn't let a goat into their game. furthermore, if these two teams play in the world series some say it could mean the coming of the apocalypse. after my lesson on the game's supernatural elements, i have officially decided that there is more drama in baseball than in daytime tv.

2. the team in the pretty colored uniforms is the home team. the team in the less pretty, solid uniforms is the away team. and sometimes this rule is broken. and if i ask about this again, i have to leave.

3. sometimes there are fights. big scary men throw big scary old bowling-ball-shaped men on the ground. that's awesome.

4. an error is when someone does something wrong, causing the other team to get a run. but sometimes a player does something wrong and it's not an error. *i will never understand this.*

5. mark prior is hot, hot, hot. hot. HOT.

6. tim, a diehard white sox fan from chicago, says we want the cubs to fail. unless they get into the world series, at which point we want the cubs to win. i can't deal with all of this changing loyalties, so i'm just going to root for the cubs.

7. sometimes cubs fans throw beer on the other team's players. cubs fans are crazy. i love them.

8. it is actually possible for a baseball game to never end, stretching on into eternity. and no, no one else thinks that's interesting, and if i mention it again, i have to leave.

anything else i should know?

go cubs. :D

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In case you were wondering, I'm rooting for the Tigers this year, solely because my father is a Cardinals fan and I greatly enjoy his deep disdain every time I do my Go Tigers cheer, which  involves striking various kitty poses, making a claw, and saying RAWR.   

Things I Needed To Do This Weekend:

1.  Write my six page Criminal Procedure midterm, due Wednesday at 11:00. 

Things I Actually Did This Weekend:

1.  Watched the OU football game.

2.  Napped.

3.  Went shopping with Laurencakes.

4.  Filled out the About Me section of this blog.

5.  Resurrected vintage madpony for your reading pleasure.  It isn't pretty, (no pictures, no design,) but it's all there - from the first post to the last.  I am considering a switch back to Blogger, now that I've cleaned the place up.  I'm jumping ship if I can't figure out how to add a link list to Typepad.*

Happy end of weekend.  New post coming soon, once I finish that effing midterm.

*Aaaand five minutes later, I figured it out.

I love the holidays.

Any holiday, really.  I blame my mother.  She treated each little holiday with special significance.  We had the  all-out Griswoldesque Christmas decorations, copious amounts of green on St. Patrick's Day, and a yearly visit from the Valentine fairy, complete with heart-shaped presents.

So I love the holidays.  Love.  Unfortunately, the husband merely tolerates. 

Last year was our first Halloween.   I bought a pumpkin.  My dear mother brought us some assorted touches of ghastly cheer, including a jack-o-lantern covered dish towel.  I strung a fake spider web across our front porch, and waited eagerly with a bowl full of at least fifteen assorted candies.  The husband watched warily from the couch, a bit frightened by my exuberance.

We had probably seven trick-or-treaters.  I live down the street from a freaking elementary school, and we got probably seven kids.  Scratch that, because I remember at least two boys who were questionably college freshman.  Yes, I gave them candy.  I'm weak!  I was desperate!

The husband heralded my post-Halloween failure depression as the Death of Holiday Decoration.  I, of course, quickly rebounded in time for Thanksgiving.  Look!!  I made a turkey… out… of… a PINEAPPLE!!!

In gearing up for Halloween this year, I spent a full 45 minutes in the Wal-mart candy line trying to commit to The Perfect Candy.   I picked up a mixed bag of Hershey’s products, but they had Whoppers, and no one likes Whoppers.  I put down the mixed bag of Hershey’s products.  I found a mixed bag of Reeses, but I’m suspicious of the white chocolate cups so that was also abandoned.  I saw a bag with lots of decidedly trendy candies like Lemonheads, but I decided Halloween candy was probably not the place to make a statement.  I rejected things without wrappers, lest the parents take them away.  I openly scoffed at the bags of Dots.  The eternal insult in the treat bag.

And Blake endured.  He made suggestions.  He quietly withdrew his suggestions when he was admonished.  (Flavored Tootsie rolls?  Really??!)  He waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And when I finally decided, he managed to withhold the eye rolling.  And he even paid!   

In retrospect, I am pretty sure I had somehow convinced myself that The Perfect Candy would bring The Cute Costumed Children.  I ended up with The Perfect Candy, and even though I probably still won’t have very many Cute Costumed Children, I do have The Perfect Husband.  If only I could figure out how to tell him he’s being a Cowboy this year. 

With wranglers.  And boots.  And a little sheriffs’ badge!   

Well, I'm giving this a try.  Only with capitalization this time!

The thing is, I miss it.  (Blogging, not capital letters.)  I didn't for a long time, but now I do.  Even before Tony came through town, I had been thinking about the good ol' days, when I used to share my every random experience with the interweb.  And it was fun.

I just watched my interview with Tony.  As I listened to myself, I couldn't help but think how oooold I sound.  I felt old that day.  In madpony time, my life was shoes and parties and sorority.  Talking about the good ol' days reminded me of how much my life has changed.  I am married, I'm in law school.  I have a cat, a dog, a house.  Debt.  And not nearly as many fabulous shoes.

But I still like to write.  And I do miss it.  So I'm back for now.  I have a 30 day free trial, and I think that's about right.  30 days.  We'll see how it goes.  We'll see if the interweb likes stories about being married and being in law school.  We'll see if I do have anything interesting left to give. 

I promise to do my best.