Tony says that Super Bowl Sunday is a National Holiday, well, should be, and so he took the day off from work today. To me, yesterday was Sunday, the day after Saturday, and the day before the day I hate most when I wake up and drive to that place where I sit on my spinny chair and wait for my ass to expand a millimeter at a time. It’s not that I don’t like football or the Super Bowl…I love the commercials and I truly think football is fun to watch, especially when the players have nice, tight, asses. But this season didn’t start off so well for me (and my Pittsburgh Steelers), and I missed most of the games due to studying and obligations and napping. So I didn’t have much invested in the Super Bowl this year, and after getting a D on my first test of the semester (yes, a D) I thought it more important to stay home and not stay out until 4am celebrating the Should-Be-National-Holiday. Next year, though? Monday after the Super Bowl will be spent at home. Or out to lunch because what is a day off without going to lunch?
It is a sad, sad thing when your life revolves around food.
In other news, I’m currently reading a book (no, not for school. I know, I should be trying to bring up that D) called Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin. Most people have probably heard of this book (I’m told it is popular in high school curriculum), but I apparently live in a very tiny bubble that floats very near the bottom of a rock and I only recently became aware of its existence. In 1959, Griffin, a white man, decided to do an experiment on race in the south. He darkened his skin through medication, stain and UV rays, shaved his head and moved to New Orleans to live as a black man to gain first-hand knowledge unfiltered.
When I am finished reading the book, I will write up a complete review of it. Because sometimes? 2008 doesn’t feel very different from 1959…and other times? It does. But until then, if you’ve read it, or if you are inclined to read it…feel free to post your comments. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Especially since I keep going like this to Tony while he’s engrossed in poker or football or eating chips and a whole container of dip:
“Did you know that this guy left his wife and kids for 3 months? And they couldn’t tell ANYBODY what he was doing because they would be putting their lives in danger??”
3.7 minutes later…
“Did you know that he had to shave the hair on his fingers so his disguise wouldn’t be ruined?”
27 seconds later…
“I wonder if he had to shave all the hair on his body?”
This went on and on and on yesterday before he left the house, and I’m thinking he couldn’t wait to get out of there. So I’m sure he would thank you very much if you would talk to me instead.