I promise I'm not just listing minor celebrities to attract Googlers

Dear Blog,

I hope you enjoyed your long weekend off. This weekend was seriously filled with moment after moment of "oh my gosh I need to tell my Blog about that." Well, mostly. But we'll get to that.

Friday, I was pretty much exhausted after subsisting on caffeine all week (it's a vicious cycle, I tell you). So after I went to dinner with A (Threadgill's, mmmm....), I passed out, my tummy filled with delicious fried okra, macaroni and cheese, and steamed broccoli (the broccoli canceled out the mac & cheese & fried-ness, in case you were wondering). Going to bed early was a good call, really, because I had to get up early to work at job #2.

I had left my wallet and driver's license at job #1 on Friday, so I stopped by the office to get it on my way out to Small Town*, Texas. (*Name changed to protect the guilty. Forget what you may have learned from watching "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" or "To Catch a Predator"; if there's anything small town police officers in Texas are notorious for, it's giving out tickets to out-of-towners. Considering my lead foot and my burned-out right brake light, I wasn't taking any chances.) I stopped to let the security guard know that I was going in the building, and he said, "Go on in, Sugar, thanks for letting me know." [Note to any stranger who calls me "Sugar," "Mija," "Honey," or "Little Mama": I love you.] [Note to the building where I work: you are scary as heck after hours.]

After picking up my wallet and practically sprinting away from my scary office building, I drove for about an hour through rolling green hills to get to Small Town. When I arrived, it was about 76 degrees outside and the air smelled like barbecue. For the first time (probably in my whole life) I considered that living in a small town might not be as bad as I'd always thought. However, five hours, 20 degrees, and 55 high school students telling stories about their Friday night exploits later (got drunk after the football game, went to "Wallmarts," bought baseball bats, "smayshed stuff") I quickly came back to my senses.

After I got off work, A and I headed to campus for the football game. A friend of a friend of a friend had a big tailgate party set up, and we ate and drank for free until it was time to head to the stadium to see Vince Young's number get retired. I have to say, of all the local celebrities I saw this weekend, I got most excited about VY. (I think I might officially love him more than Major Applewhite; Major broke my heart when I issued him a cashier's check so that he could go buy an engagement ring. Sigh.)

The football game was great, although it was a bit surreal. They just finished renovating the stadium, so in addition to the old standbys like Godzillatron, the heavily-sedated Bevo, Smokey the Canon, and Big Bertha the giant drum, there were 98,000 people, pyrotechnics, fireworks, a bunch of celebrities and a baton twirler throwing flaming batons. It was a bit overwhelming, honestly. After Vince Young, Kevin Durant, Major Applewhite and Gail Goestenkors (assistant Olympic basketball coach) all made triumphant returns to UT via Godzillatron, I said to A, "Good grief. All we need now is Matthew McConaughey to show up, and we'll have a complete set of recent beloved Longhorns."

At that exact moment, Matthew McConaughey's face lit up the screen. He was on the field with his girlfriend who looked lovely, but a bit terrified, holding either their baby or a sack of potatoes in a sling. (A's brother, who was on the sidelines, later confirmed that Matthew's girlfriend was indeed holding their baby. Considering that football fields aren't exactly the safest place in the world for babies - good going Matthew - I figured that explained the look of terror on her face).

Despite normally being a very loyal fan, it was just too hot to be loud, wear orange, OR stay late. Feeling dehydrated, hungry, and tired, we left with a couple of minutes to go in the fourth quarter (Dear Vince, Major, Mack, et al: I'm sorry. I did come early. Does that redeem me at all?) I loaded up on tomato pie and water and headed to bed.

Sunday, I checked my email to make sure that I had the correct time and contact information for Saving Diva. We were going to meet for ice cream later that afternoon - or so I thought. To my horror, I found out that Saving and I had gotten our dates crossed, and I had inadvertently stood her up on Saturday. I felt (and still feel) super guilty. I owe her a dark chocolate ice cream cone or two. I probably need to attend the Derek Zoolander Center For Kids Who Can't Read Good And Wanna Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too, so that I don't mis-read emails in the future. (Sorry again, Saving.)

Sunday evening, A and I loaded our running gear and iPods and headed downtown to run in the Nike Human Race. Aaron "HottieMcHotPants" "Olympic swimmer that I respect tremendously" Peirsol started the hot, hilly Austin race. The man that sold me my first pair of running shoes had the fastest time in Austin; Lance Armstrong finished 6th (is there anything he can't do?), and Matthew McConaughey finished 128th. I did not finish first, 6th, or 128th, although I did finish in the top half of the world, if you count the people who didn't show up.

After drinking gallons and gallons of water (the theme of this weekend was "dehydration") and eating a couple of slices of pizza, I went to sleep.

I woke up early, took Bailey on a long walk, went to visit my grandmother (who was in town for the weekend), took my sister a coffee because she had to work (on Labor Day! Blasphemy!) and then headed to my friend Kat's house for a barbecue. I lasted until about 5:30, when I headed home and slept until I had to get up for work this morning.

And that is about it. I realize that this is about 20 times longer (yet not, unfortunately, 20 times more interesting) than most of my blog posts. I will try to go back to being my normal, more concise self tomorrow.

Love, as always,
Jane