I have anger issues this morning. I don't have any good reason to be annoyed, but the messages in my Inbox at work are getting on my last nerve. Reading documents with crap like this are part of my problem:

This past Monday, I had what might have been my personal best football game experience. If you happened to catch any of the sports networks, CNN, or even Al Jazeera, you will know that the Monday Night Football game this week marked the reopening of the Superdome for the first time since Hurricane Katrina. A whole day of hullabaloo was scheduled, and I left work at lunch time to check it all out.

I woke up at 4:00 this morning, and instead of dropping right back off to sleep, I thought about an email from work yesterday. With most people -- and sometimes, even with me -- this would signify a project gone hopelessly awry or an urgent need for a vacation. But my reasons this morning were different. I started to laugh at the message. I was able to hold in the noisy, audible part of the laugh, but I couldn't help the abdominal convulsions, and it jiggled the bed enough to disturb Mrs. theskinnyonbenny.

Dancing With the Stars had its season premier this week, and predictably, the dumpy commentator from the business news channel was eliminated. I say it was predictable -- and that guy was noticeably more clumsy than some of his opponents, but I can't honestly say that I can look at their performances and tell a good one from a bad one. I watch with the same naive innocence that I did when I was real little, watching football without a good understanding of the rules. Some can just follow the ball and enjoy a football game, where the more experienced viewer will might watch for particular offensive or defensive formations. The really, really serious viewer will notice the positioning of specific blockers or defensive players away from the ball.

On Saturday morning, I got to the tailgate party spot early. Between 5:30 and 6:30, I unloaded the astounding amount of crap that I can fit into a Jeep. Although it was still dark, it was already kind of hot. The air was heavy with humidity and there was nary a breeze. I sat down to cool off and switched from hot coffee to a cold bloody mary. About that time, a large group of joggers passed through. I shouted my encouragement. "Hey psychopaths! Come get a donut and a beer!"

Nothing says "it's time for football" better than a message like this.

By the time you see this post, I might have updated my little reading list to the side. Or then again, I might not have. This summer has featured really bad television along with Mrs. theskinnyonbenny being out of town or at work dinners more often than I'm used to. The result is that I've been reading books like Burgess Meredith in that old Twilight Zone episode.

The other day, I was bicycling around the lakes near LSU. I was coming up behind a walker who was cruising down the center of the bike path. This isn't uncommon, and it's not a big deal. But I don't want to just fly up past with an inch or two to spare. I would either scare the shit out of her, or if she veers the wrong way, cause an accident with no serious injury, but one that features a lot of spilled blood.

An interesting tattoo, me being a dick, and a sweeeeeet offer.

I just recently learned that today is a holiday. Victory Over Japan Day. "Where?" one might you ask.

This is the week that I've officially turned on Wife Swap. For a few weeks in a row, I've found that I uncharacteristically didn't want to watch. The episodes that were starting looked to be just like other episodes (or maybe the same ones) that I had already seen. But I've come to realize that pretty much all of the episodes are exactly the same, and that I've had enough. Just like potato chips.

I'm the only person that I know anymore who's truly a fan of professional cycling. I used to have a couple of buddies at work who kept up with it, but no more. It's just me spending my July evenings alone with Paul Sherwin and Phil Liggit on OLN.