Top ten quotes from Charlie Weis's halftime speech during yesterday's Sugar Bowl.

In a few days, the memory of my burning intestines will fade, and New Year's Day 2007 will be a happy memory of being curled in a chair, half asleep, half awake, watching football, and not passing a single thought through my head the entire day.

It's been a few weeks now, but one night we were sitting outside at the Regal Beagle, enjoying a cool fall night, and having a few drinks. Because I love to play with fire, it takes only a slightly cold or damp period to get me to light one up, so we were enjoying the warmth between face fulls of smoke.

On the Friday night after the bonfire festival, Mrs. theskinnyonbenny and I drove down to New Orleans for a night on the town. We had a dinner reservation at Emeril's, where I had eaten a good -- but not mind-shatteringly delicious -- meal a couple of years ago. The food was doubly as good this time. Maybe not mind-shatteringly delicious, but it was really, really damned good. So I guess Emeril has gotten back to what put him on the map: making food.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I've been out and about a ton lately. I spent the week of December 4 away from the office, on a rather dull work trip. It was four straight days of meetings, and through almost all of it, I was talking or people were paying attention to me. (That might seem natural to you if you don't do a lot of meetings in corporate America. In reality, most meetings require you to only pay about 35-40 percent of your attention.)

This is just a note to test whether the "Submit Post" button on my site still works.

A description of my post.

One day, right before Thanksgiving, we rode down to Best Buy during lunch. He put in an order for something boring, and while we were waiting for the paperwork to be completed, he started to talk to the sales girl. Somehow, it came up that he had some sort of surgery scheduled for his eyeballs. I would screw up the specifics, but it wasn't an elective, corrective type of thing that people have become familiar and comfortable about.

Mrs. theskinnyonbenny and I went camping with the Sharples a couple of weekends ago. We pitched our tents, walked the dogs, built a fire, had some chow, and drank whiskey.

As you probably know, I have a beagle (Lily) and a basset hound (Blossom). What you might not know is that they -- especially the beagle -- have hundreds of years of breeding telling them that they want to take off. They sit in the yard and ache at the thought of all of the squirrels and cats in the neighborhood that they can chase noisily in lieu of deer and rabbits.

I feel like I'm walking around with a shard of glass in the bottom of my right foot. Each of the last two nights, I've dug around as much as I could with every needle or knife in my house, but I can't find any glass or a splinter. Now, it might be that every step hurts because of all of the cutting that I did, or there might still be a shard of glass. I can't tell.

This post is an unorganized mess of links, graphics, and junk. Hopefully, the busy screen will distract you from the fact that I don't have anything to say.