It's 6:57 am in Carl Junction Missouri.

The High SChool band is marching right out side my house.

Normally I'd think I'd be upset, but in the mornings I kinda like it.

As I'm getting dressed, I pretend that I'm a Kansas City Chief and I'm putting on my pads for the big game against the hated, incestuous Denver Broncos.

Oops. That was probably harsh of me.

I just hate the Broncos.

It's Friday morning and I'm functioning on ZERO caffiene. We just don't keep it in the house anymore since my wife is pregnant. She is a Coke junkie (the drink, you fools! The SODA!) and can only have one Coke a day. So to keep temptation down, we only keep one emergency 2-liter of Soda in the back of the refrigerator hidden behind the 3 year old jar of mayonnaise and the packet of shredded cheddar cheese that, as far as I know, has gelled together into some sort of semi-sentient wad of dairy and mold. We keep it back there so Natalie is not tempted to drink any more of it than necessary, unless it's been a really bad day, and then I'll put on my riot gear and arm myself with 2 bottles of 409 to fight my way to the back of the fridge to liberate the Coke from the grasp of the evil cheese-beast and it's mindless lackey- the bag of wilted lettuce.