God, I love semantics.

This link is to the annual Lake Superior State University's List of Words to Be Banished from the Queen's English for Mis-use, Over-use and General Uselessness. I love that "going green" is making more than just me nauseated, as well as the word "Maverick." I used to like that word. Such a shame.

It's kind of funny, though, that the list comes direct from the U.P. (this must be said with a very heavy Wisconsin accent for effect), as they say Yah instead of Yes. But whatever. The list is something I find interesting, and people in the U.P. are really pretty cool for the amount of cold they have to endure.

http://www.lssu.edu/banished/current.php

The Big Purge of Irritants and Looking Ahead to The Year of the Ox....

Some believe that with a new year comes a new, clean slate. A shiny new look at life that allows us to chuck all the negativity from the past year and start anew. This week, I’ve been in somewhat of a funkified mood. I could blame my hormones, the stress involved with the holiday season, the overabundance of sugar and salt, or the fact that I’m facing another year, still have some unattained goals and therefore am feeling my mortality. But the reasons are neither here nor there. I’m a solutions kind of gal. And, the ultimate solution to this week’s funk is to look lovingly at the present, then forward to a bright and sparkly future, free from any negative vibes from the year past. Keeping with that notion, I’ve constructed a list of everything that’s annoyed the crap out of me this year. Yes, it SEEMS somewhat negative, but really, it’s a positive, cathartic way of gaining clarity and focus on the pending happiness in 2009 that I shall revel in like a giggly little girl. So, before I create my not-yet-thought-about, let alone written New Year’s Resolution list, here is the list to end all negative lists of 2008. Expelled like a good sneeze to make room for the positive of 2009 – the Chinese-calendar-proclaimed year of the Ox.

The List of Everything That’s Annoyed me This Year – 2008 Edition.

1. Kim Jong-Il. Might as well start with Lucifer himself, right? This guy’s a complete whack job psycho, and his beady little eyes and the way he looks like a horrible Korean Elvis impersonator irritates me. Al Qaeda Shmaeda. Jong-Il is Hitler reincarnate, and yet the guy still gets up every day, brushes his teeth, puts on his pants, and rules an entire country full of a gazillion people as a horrific dictator. The devil himself is living and breathing in North Korea, he’s got the stature of a newborn gopher, and yet we can’t off him with some cool technologically-advanced sniper or bomb or something? There’s no group of Navy Seals or special-force group of military excellence that can go over there and just eliminate this guy? Really? I don’t get it.

2. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie just keep having babies and are actually starting to frighten me a bit. They’re overpopulating the world so much that I fear we may completely run out of natural resources due entirely to their offspring. I don’t understand when it became trendy to reproduce like the canine species, doing it so consecutively that you can’t even ENJOY the child that you delivered five minutes ago, because you’re too busy having a turkey baster shoved in you to conceive the quadruplets that you MUST HAVE within your belly before the previous baby can even focus on an inanimate object with its little newborn eyes.

3. Going Green. I married a guy that doesn’t even believe in Global Warming. Now, even though I do think it exists to some degree, I am pretty annoyed by all the hype and propaganda surrounding it. I bet all the hippies of the 60s are shaking their non-shampooed, patchouli-smelling heads and asking why all of a sudden it’s so celebrity-chic to be “green.” All those REAL environmentalist vegetarian/vegan hippie people are wondering how in the hell Paris Hilton can say she’s environmentally aware when she uses up more natural resources than most third world countries. It’s become trendy in a stupid, US magazine way, and smart retailers are capitalizing and charging more for all this crap that is labeled “green.” And people are buying it. I mean, wearing a t-shirt that says, “Go Green” sort of becomes null and void when you’re driving a Suburban, don’t you think? And, if I decide to buy a Prius to help the environment, why in the hell should I shell out 30K for it? It’s not worth 30K. If I’m spending 30K on a car, I’ll get a nice-looking BMW (a used one…how’s that for recycling?) – not an ugly Prius, thanks.

4. The Duggars. Kind of the same thing as Brangelina, but I believe their ultimate goal is way different. Even though they’ve inspired the taglines, “Uterus – it’s not a clown car” and “it’s like throwing a hot dog down a hallway,” I feel as though they are good, God-fearing people that actually do cherish their kids. But I also think they’re certifiably nuts and that their child-stockpiling may be a plot to ensure that their family survives beyond the Armageddon. The sheer number of children will put them at a clear advantage for familial and genetic survival. And this sort of annoys me perhaps for the same reasons I get annoyed by packrat people who save everything and have too much clutter in their homes. I’m just sayin.

5. The Republican Party's Withered Image. If I thought being an Independent Libertarian would actually make a difference in this country, I may have voted as one in the last election. However, I usually vote Republican in most elections I participate in, because of two very specific reasons. One, I loved Ronald Reagan and wished he was my grandfather, and two, I’m vehemently opposed to anything resembling socialism in any way, shape, or form. With that being said, I attended a Sarah Palin rally back during the 2008 Presidential campaign and I was so taken aback by the amount of rednecks and old people that call themselves Republicans. First of all, the Republicans need a way overdue, complete face lift. They are in desperate need of a marketing and branding overhaul. I think they need me and a team of people much like the guys on “Queer Eye” to completely re-brand them from the ground up. They need to ditch the country music, learn to embrace new technology, and become just a bit more “hip.” Otherwise, they will perish. I saw it first hand at that rally a few months ago. People like me don’t particularly want to be associated with anything resembling white trash, rebel flags, or country music. I find all three offensive, really. I’m not saying that everyone who’s a Republican is a redneck, but I saw firsthand what the major demographic is, and it’s not educated, working white females in their 30s, that’s for sure. Nor do they have even a small chunk of the younger demographic, who will eventually take over this country (yeah…it frightens me, too). When the “what will my country do for me because the world owes me something” mentality finally takes over for good, we will all be equal and drone-like, whining and pathetic and waiting in line for bread. I don’t want to see that happen in my lifetime. Rebranding is necessary…..it’s as simple as that. Wake up, Republican Party. Get your heads out of your asses and do it for the Gipper.

6. Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt. I don’t know what she is or does, but I want her to go away. And that thing called Spencer has pubic hair on his facial area. They’re not actors or entertainers, nor do they work, I don’t think, yet they’re slathered all over magazines in the checkout line at Target. I don’t get it. Someone please make them go far, far away.

7. Michael Vick and everyone else who abuses animals. If you can treat an animal like crap, you can treat people like crap, and you, therefore, are a piece of crap. Case in point: Jeffery Dahmer tortured animals. In fact, all serial killers have three attributes in common: arson or a fascination with setting fires, bedwetting, and abuse or torture of animals. Anyone who mistreats an animal should be looked at closely and monitored from that point forward. Period.

8. MTV - Making your young, impressionable daughter a raging slut since 1989. I think 1989 was around the time they quit playing music and began to teach our young women how to be promiscuous and vapid little tramps. MTV blows. I miss the days of fun A-Ha videos and Martha Quinn.

9. Scientology. A religion? Really? Come ON. It’s a cult based on a science fiction writer dude who had a fake degree. You might as well praise a box of tampons. But, people are stupid enough to buy into this crap. The celebrities, then the wannabe non-celebrities who join this freak show brigade make me shake my head at the human condition as a whole. Do you remember when Katie Holmes wasn’t in a Scientology prison, spoke actual words from her mouth, and was really quite cute? I know it’s hard to remember, but she was a pretty young woman once. So sad.

10. Pretty much all 18-24-year olds. OK, that's a bit rough. I fully admit that there is a big handful of this demographic that I do love, like, and can tolerate, but I can honestly say that most of them annoy me. This is because I am in contact with them on a very regular basis, and I feel as though I’ve earned the right to say that. This generation is one of false, yet almost overpowering entitlement. They’re completely out of touch with reality, spoiled-rotten, and the people my age who’ve raised them perpetuate this new cycle of greed, materialism, and a lack of self and civil responsibility. Time Out is the dumbest thing I've ever heard of, and half these kids would've been well-served to have a good paddling. I suppose I should list 35-50-year olds on here, too. OK, I will. See number 11.

11. 35-50-year olds that have raised all the bratty, self-absorbed, materialistic little 18-24-year olds mentioned in number 10.

12. Pageants. I was horrified to learn that these still exist in 2008. And, although I was in one once –I was a freshman in high school – I even found it creepy on the other side, experiencing it. They’re antiquated, and the ones with the little itty-bitty girls are total freakshow advertisements for pedophiles. Pageants blow. They should be made illegal.

13. All those American car company bailout jerks. I have to bail them out WHY? Because their cars suck and people preferred more reliable, ahead-of-the-curve foreign cars that actually did good R&D, and now I’m forced to pay more taxes to make sure all those American-car executives get to keep their cushy jobs and golf memberships? That is a pile of crap. Do your job well, hire good people, and make a good product, American car companies. Then you wouldn’t have to ask Jane Q. Taxpayer to bail you out. This is a capitalist nation, last time I checked. If your business fails, no one should have to bail you out. That’s life. Get over it. Get up. Move on. Start another business or go work at McDonalds if you have to. That’s why America rocks. All those slimy little executives screaming, “HELP!” should send me some sort of fruit basket to thank me for the fact that I’m paying for them to be playing 18 holes of golf right now. Jerks.

14. The Kennedys. Maybe it’s because they’re all a bunch of posers who do bad stuff and then repent and give a lot of money to the Catholic Church expecting to go to heaven, of course, as a result of their insanely huge bribe abilities. Right now, it happens to be the fact that Caroline Kennedy thinks she can slip into a senate seat because she’s, well, a Kennedy. And what’s really scary is that she probably will. No matter that she has no political experience whatsoever...she’s a Kennedy. And a lawyer to boot. So very irritating.

15. And, last but definitely not least, the Florida Gators. Because it’s so much FUN to hate them. All the chomping hand gestures and stuff...my own father, who lives in Jacksonville, has been taken in and fed the proverbial Florida Kool-Aid. They've gotten to him, obviously sucked the loyalty out of him, and made him believe that they're worthy of being in the same category as the Vols. Yeah, right. It's called senility, Dad. Gators SUCK.

It's official. I feel cleansed and purified to now start working on my 2009 New Year's Resolution list. Funk GONE. Kaput. Goodbye.

Christmas is over? Really?

It was one of those holidays that I shall always remember as, well, crappy. It just wasn't a good one, people. I was sick with one of my world-famous migraines stapled on top. I can't sugar coat it any more than to say that I love my new, long, pink snuggly robe and my makeup toolbox from Sephora and my new, bright orangey-red purse that is both obnoxious and fabulous. I love my new pajamas and the scarves and gloves and the new bottle of my signature scent. I love my little Buddha charm and handmade earrings from Breckenridge direct from my sister and the pink John Deere mug and teapot from my stepson. I do love the material things I received, only I don't really remember getting them at all. I don't remember actually opening them, truth be told, because I was in a complete sickness fog through Christmas Eve day and Christmas day. Complete. And. Total. Blur. 2008 is almost gone, and I've slept-walked, all ill-like, through the latter part of it. Chalk one year's festivities up to hydrocodone and phenegren. It's official. I'm just now, on December 27th, able to actually revel in the fact that it occurred.

I did manage to eat a juicy filet, my weight in pigs in a blanket, I believe, and several Christmas cookies. And, in keeping with the rest of the world's New Year's resolutions, I shall ditch the narcotics, the sugar, the fat, and get back on track tomorrow with working out.

Happy almost 2009, loyal readers. My Christmas gift to you is this old school workout for you to enjoy at your leisure today. I'm a giver like that.

Only one more day of work....

Well, here I am. At the end of my Friday. I have a half day, and it's going to be glorious, despite the cold rain and sleet. I think I may start it by mailing packages for family (yes, I'm just a tad late in doing so), and then I'll go home and start cleaning a bit for the mad rush of visitors we'll have starting this weekend, then I'll nap like a kept woman with a sugar daddy. I pretend to do this about once a year.

In the meantime, I'm done from work for the week, and Christmas is almost here.

A Really Cool Website...

I'm usually not one to share the websites Husband-man points out to me, because they're mostly techie or somehow aeronautical or contain some sort of engineering jargon, and therefore are a bit over my head. I admit this. I mean, a Shakespeare site would be over his head, so I'm not really saying that he's smarter than me. He's just more sponge-like than me and understands the intricate workings of things that I'd rather not try to understand, as I have other things to do. Like buy shoes. Because I feel this way about many of his choices in website reading, I naturally assume they are over my readers' heads, as this blog isn't exactly a stop for Mensa members. No offense, readers. I mean, I've done the mock Mensa tests in Sky Mall magazine on a couple domestic flights in the past years, and I've done pretty damn well on them, I must say, but yeah...I've never really aspired to be Mensa's poster girl. I am, however, a closet dork.

So, after that ridiculously long preamble (it's Friday, I only have one more day until I'm off for Christmas, and I'm a little chatty this morning....WOO HOO), this is a site Husband-man showed me last night. I felt the need to share, as it is really kinda cool. It's basically a site that shows all of the abandoned places around the world. Places like little towns near Chernobyl, whose residents literally had to pack up and leave in like 36 hours with what they could grab. Remnants of living, breathing societies just frozen completely in time. It's truly fascinating. And it makes you think, "what in the hell would I do if I had to pick up and move my entire life in 36 hours?"

I'd take my photo albums, my dogs, several of my cherished books, and my shoes. There you go.

http://www.artificialowl.net/

God help me. I'm stuck in the Illinois suburbs.

I'm stuck in a hotel room in Chicago. OK, it's not really like cool, downtown Chicago, but rather a northern suburb with a snazzy new Springhill Suites by Marriott that happens to have both a Wal-Mart and a Chili's across the street. Oh yes. I'm living large.

I've been here since Sunday, and I was supposed to be home by now, but there's one hell of a storm outside. It's snowing and icy and crazy cold. It took me an hour to go two miles back to my hotel tonight, and it was during that time that I realized that returning home to Indiana was futile.

So, here I am. Sitting here with I Am Legend on in the background. I hate that part where he has to kill his dog. It makes me want to go beat the crap out of some rabid people. Speaking of dogs, this is how bored and completely shut off from the world I am. I just watched this video - yet another in the Oscar the Boxer series. And now I miss more than just my husband and his ability to make my icy feet warm in mere seconds while also pretending to enjoy my endless conversation, but I miss my dogs a ton, too. I've also vowed to start my own video library of my canine children, as they're WAY more interesting and adorable than even Oscar is. Sorry, Oscar. You're damn cute and I love your videos, but my youngest Dane can drink out of the kitchen sink without even standing on his hind legs. And, my girl Tess has a bigger vocabulary than most of my college students.



Well, if I'm stuck here for more than one more day, at least I can go hang out at the Wal-Mart. They sell vodka there, right?

Another great one says goodbye...

I'm a big fan of Saturday Night Live. I used to watch it religiously, and even though I don't see it real-time as much as I'd like due to increasing inability to stay up past 11:30 on the weekends, I do try to keep up with who's on and what new skits they're brewing. The women on the show have always been my favorites. Hell, this blog and its tagline bloomed from one single quote by Gilda Radner. She personified everything I like in a person - down-to-earth, funny as hell, and the able to not take life so seriously. Delicious ambiguity is what it's all about, after all. Gilda was platinum.

Fast forward to the era of women ruling the roost at SNL. Tina Fey is one of my self-proclaimed personal heroes, and the fact that she is the first female head writer of the show is just plain cool. It's about time, really, and since she's been there, I think they've had some of the best writing they've had in decades. All the women on that show have been funny over the years, but she and Amy Poehler and the new cast of increasingly funny chicks has raised the bar, in my opinion.

Poehler's first was being promoted from featured cast member to full-fledged cast member in her inagural year - a distinction held only by two other cast members. Both men. So, when I found out that Amy Poehler was leaving SNL, it made me a little sad. My Dad likes to say that I look and act like Tina Fey (he contends that she'll play me in the cinematic biopic of my life, but the jury is still out on that), and while I'll take that as a compliment (nothing wrong with being compared to a smart, funny chick), I'd like to think that Amy and I have a few things in common as well. For starters, she was born exactly 20 days after me in 1971, and we're both Virgos...which really just means that we're both earthy, organized perfectionists who have a professional exterior but wild interior. Or something like that. She's married to a guy named Will. I, too, have a husband with a four-letter name.

We're practically twins, people.

I'll miss watching those two girls do their thing on the Weekend Update, but I'm sure she'll show up someplace else real soon. In the meantime, here are some of the SNL women acting like half the 19-year olds I teach at the university.

Long live the funny girl.

A Rite of Passage and My Regression into the Teenage Years....

This week, my stepson was scheduled to get his permit. Husband-man fully intended to take him, but was hindered with a last-minute work meeting. So, I got the call and request to fill in for him. I gladly accepted, acted somewhat parent-like, and within a short half hour at the BMV, the little man walked away with a legal, picture-ID permit in his pocket - and even thanked his stepmom for doing so. What a kid. I even convinced him to become an organ donor, although he only committed to being a "partial donor," which we decided meant that he would end up merely having to give one eye and a foot when all was said and done.

In the same week, I secured a newer, shinier position at work - a better fit for me overall. I hopefully won't be working 60-hour weeks on a regular basis anymore, but have a more manageable, writing and editing position that has a bit of leadership thrown in on the side. Very responsible and mature, I might add.

To completely contradict all the grown-up stuff, I participated in the joint purchase of Britney Spears "Circus" tour tickets this week. Yes, you heard that right. The girl that loves the Foo Fighters and Led Zepplin is going to see a Britney Spears concert with her pals Leroy and Mockarena (and maybe Nashvegas) in the wonderful city of Chicago. While not until April, I have already been thinking about both my outfit choices (Catholic school girl or head-to-toe red leather?) and the fact that I shall dance like a 16-year old all night. Hell, all of us old married women will dance like we're idiot teenagers, and I can...not...wait. Britney's no Gwen Stefani, and I don't even think a real note will come out of her head, truth be told, but the fun and fluff factor will be high nonetheless.

They say that Christmastime brings out the childlike response in people. And let's face it - there's nothing like the thought of unadulterated, mindless fun with your girlfriends to get you in the party spirit. At my age, regression - or even the thought of it - is just plain grand. This is what it takes to get a 37-year old woman into the childlike (or teenage-like) Christmas spirit - a slutty blond bimbo from Louisiana that lip-synchs. Alrighty then.

Let's all ponder that thought with a Britney video.

(You didn't really think I'd post a real one? Please.)

Let's All Go Beat up an Animal-Abusing Woman in Wisconsin, Shall We?

Today, my friend Scott sent me this article. It's a horrific article about a horrific woman in Wisconsin who chained her dog outside in the freezing temps and neglected to care that he was frozen to the sidewalk. Scott loves dogs like I do. He's particularly obsessed with killer schnauzers and has two trained killer schnauzers in his own home.

Amazingly enough, the neglected dog lived, and I imagine he's still wagging his tail and still loves people. Truly amazing.

Here is how Scott and my email conversation went this morning:

Scott: Please read: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28072038/?gt1=43001

Daisywriter: Oh yes, my friend sent this to me the other day, and I wanted to DRIVE TO WISCONSIN to find this woman and then NAIL her fat ass to the sidewalk to see if she, too, would survive the cold. I hate people. I really, really do.

Scott: I'm considering quitting my job, moving to Wisconsin, starting law school, becoming a prosecutor, and sentencing this woman to death by schnauzer bite.

Daisywriter: Oh my God. That's brilliant. I'm doing the same. Except the lawyer part - I hate lawyers. How about I just go with you and I beat her to death with my shoe?

And that is all I have to say about that.

I need to get one of these...

I'd like to point out that it's Saturday night, and I'm working. I'd also like to point out that tonight is my company's Christmas party, and I'm working.

So I've made a monumental, executive-like decision. I'm going to purchase one of these. I believe it may very well be the best $19.99 I ever spend.

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

Canine gratitude and the fear of Old Yeller...

My dog Zeke was a 36th birthday present from my husband over a year ago. I won't sugar-coat it - as a puppy, he was the biggest pain in my ass. Being a diehard dog lover, I often found myself wanting to drop him off at the pound - and I threatened it to his face several times. That's how sleep-depriving and rotten of a puppy Zeke was.

So, it makes me smile these days to see that Zeke has grown out of most of his bad habits. My boxer, Tess, has always been my favorite (I've always said you can pick favorites with dogs while you can't outwardly pick a favorite kid), but Zeke's now joined the high-ranked status of Tess, the obvious angel in a dog's body. He can still be a rotten prick, but I've found that I love all my pups like human children. Hell, my dogs ARE my kids.

Like most dogs, Zeke is ritualistic. Even though he was my birthday present, he's definitely Husband-man's biggest fan. Case in point: Every night before we go to sleep (both the Danes and the boxer sleep on their own separate beds on our bedroom floor), Zeke starts to get settled in his bed, then walks over to Husband-man's side of the bed and puts his head on his chest as if to hug him. Then he kisses Husband man direct on the mouth, walks back over to his bed, and completes his "say goodnight" ritual, before laying down and letting off a loud sigh that sounds much like a 65-year old man with sleep apnea.

In the morning, though, that's when he saves his rituals for me. I'm up at 5 every day, and like clockwork, Zeke is there to greet me. Or, his nose is, anyway. Even on the weekends, he puts his snout right in my face to remind me that dogs don't understand the difference between workdays and sleep-in weekend days. He's a giver like that.

Call me the crazy lady down the street with all the dog hair in her house, but I just love them. I'll never apologize for being grateful for those little furry masses of love. They've given me so much more than I could ever give them. And, I simply cannot imagine a full life without dogs.

Which is why I hesitate to go see the new movie, Marley and Me over the holidays, even though I want so badly to see it. Husband-Man has been vocally against going, as he believes it'll be another "fall in love with dog on screen, then get your heart ripped out as you watch the dog die like Old Yeller" movie. Think about it - K9 cop, Turner and Hooch, Old Yeller, I'm sure there are more that I've blocked out - they're all the sap-filled movie that makes you think about how much you love your own dogs, then BAM! Death. Merry Christmas.

So, our Christmas Day movie choice is still up in the air. I never got around to reading the book, so I could be wrong about this ending thing. We may see Marley as a geriatric old furball and then the credits roll. But in my heart, I know the formula too well. Regardless, I'm seeing this movie eventually. And, when I do, I'm going to be a complete friggin mess by the end of it.

Sweet, sweet karma....

I've had a cold/flu thing all week, have managed to still work between 10 and 12 hours every day, and have to work all weekend. Daisywriter is not a happy girl today. But do you know what makes it better for at least a good 15 minutes?

O.J. is finally going to do some time. The self-righteous murdering prick is going to be someone's girlfriend in jail. And this alone makes me smile today.

And it begins.....with smugness and heart....

Last Saturday night, I accompanied Husband-man and stepson to the Indiana High School State Football Championships - played at Lucas Oil Stadium (where the Colts play). The southside's Center Grove Trojans played the northside's Carmel Greyhounds. It was a rival match made in heaven - the stuff that good games are made of, really. The southside has always been perceived as the more "blue collar" part of town (even if we do have many million-dollar homes and ridiculous farmhouse spreads), while the northside is more mini-mall yuppified. We have farmers down south. They have a Saks up north. So, the match up was truly divine. It ended up being a pretty cool and historical night, as my stepson's high school team (the southside underdogs) came back from a horrible first half to win the title. They say it was the biggest comeback in Indiana high school football history.

While they were kicking the northsider boys' asses, I was watching Tennessee kick the crap out of Kentucky. We were in a friend's suite, so I had the luxury of watching both simultaneously (which, I might add, is not too shabby for a hick chick from the southside). I got a little teary-eyed when I watched Phil Fulmer coach his last game. Players hugged him like they would their own Dads, and you could see the emotion in Coach Fulmer, his family, and all of those who understand that he was born and bred to play and coach in Knoxville. In the city with the nicest, most genuine people who not only love the Vols so much, but truly have more heart than any other school in the SEC.

It's heart, I believe, that wins the best games. My stepson's high school had heart the other night. It was palpable. Center Grove's red colors took up 3/4 of the stadium, where Carmel only populated the other fourth, at best. There was a lot of heart in that place. So much so, that a Carmel High School father proclaimed it to Husband-man. "Well, you guys played with so much heart and you really deserve this." Something along those lines, anyway, as we all filed out of the stadium.

But, as we all know, every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. And so it goes, right?

With Tennessee's Fulmer formally gone now, there's a new Sheriff in town. His name is Lane Kiffin. He's young. Very young. In fact, I couldn't believe how young this guy was when Husband-man pointed him out to me the other day. Impressive career for his age, but yeah....he's damn young.

Apparently, he's already started recruiting players. And, while I'm kind of excited of the prospect that he's actually doing some recruiting, he's doing it a few days earlier than he should. At least for people like Steve Spurrier - who obviously feels the need to watch him like a hawk. And let's face it - that may be the biggest testament to the potential Mr. Kiffin has.

I'm attaching the full article in its glory at the end of this entry, although as a writer and hack blogger myself, I wouldn't really call this a journalistic article. It's a blog. An opinion, and a smug-as-hell one, to boot:

Mr. Kiffin may have wanted to wait, sure, but I do love the fact that he's like a rabid, frothing-at-the-mouth dog, wanting to start his role immediately. Sure, he's young and has a lot to learn, but there's something to be said for ambition. Let's just hope he has that heart that I'm so used to. That all of us Vol fans are used to, really.

In the meantime, Mr. Hinton appears to be a little condescending, at best. He must've gone to Florida or something.

But what do I know? I mean, I'm just a southside redneck that likes corn from a jar. Yep...and I do so with all my heart. So eat that, Mr. Hinton. :-)

http://rivals.yahoo.com/ncaa/football/blog/dr_saturday/post/Welcome-to-the-SEC-cheater-Signed-Ol-Ball-Co?urn=ncaaf,125819