The day started off so good. It started when I woke up at about 1115 in the A.M. I would have slept later were it not for my baby sister. I call her that, but really she's a junior at UT. She didn't get the memo that she's supposed to stay eight years old forever but anyways. She needed a ride to go to the UT football game against K-State Sucks. I was, admittedly, hesitant to oblige at first, mainly because I wanted to continue sleeping indefinitely. But I did as any self-respecting big brother would do, and it rather paid off, in light of the fact that I ended up stumbling upon an extra ticket to the game. What joy! It was the first UT football game I would get to see since I think 2005. I was very excited indeed. Then of course, the crapfest of a game ensued. Most of us know what happened. I won't go into it except to say that it was the ugliest, most sustained beating the Horns have taken since probably 2003. At halftime I had gone to the concession stands to get a bag of Skittles. During the second half as my beloved Horns were getting the Bevo crap kicked out of them, I worked on the $5 king-size bag of sugary bits to dull the anguish I was feeling inside. By the time the cannon fired the last shot of the game, I had gotten about a quarter of the way through it and stuffed them in the cargo pocket of my shorts--rolling the bag shut to prevent leakage of course. Little did I know that at the end of it all, God would decide to treat a stadiumful of dejected UT faithful to a funeral-esque torrential downpour. I and my party jogged a good bit of the way back to shelter. Standing water the whole way. It was like summer revisited. I longed for a kyak. As I was trudging through the relentless sheets of precipitation, I looked down and noticed a large multi-colored stain on my shorts. And then I remembered, ah yes, my bag of Skittles. I reached into my cargo pocket and sure enough, every last one of my little bits of sugary tooth-rotting goodness had leaked out of the bag and were resting at the bottom of my pocket, soaking in the big ole fat rain. The colors all mixed together to make one color which, to my eyes, actually appeared to be burnt orange. A stream of that burnt orange ran down my leg. I was literally bleeding orange. And that's how I felt inside, like I was bleeding orange. Hook 'em.

This morning as I was fixing myself some breakfast, something occurred to me. I think that Frosted Flakes are the most festive cereal of them all. Sure, they don't have multi-colored marshmallows or anything fancy like that. But think about it. You pour some FF into your bowl. You start to pour in the milk, and then surprise!--a fountainous geyser of milk shoots right back up out of the bowl ... and onto your kitchen floor. Grrrrreat! Now tell me, what other cereal does that? It'd be pretty flippin' sweet if it weren't for the immediate need to clean up the now-wasted dairy product on the ground. It's most inconvenient, especially in light of the fact that with FF, it's a race against the clock before they decay into this soggy sludge. They're grrrrreat--for the first ninety seconds or so. After that, nnnnnot so much.