When I turned on my computer this morning, a program that lives in my task bar took the initiative to go to the internet, find some particular server, and ask it the temperature in Baton Rouge. It then changed its stock graphic to a bold, black number: 39.

I normally don't really care about major league baseball. The game is too slow, and any particular game in the regular season is too meaningless. By the time the games are important, it's football season, and regular season football ranks higher on my interest scale than post season baseball. No question about it.

I mentioned in my post about tailgating on Saturday that there were a couple of little stories that I would add later in the week. First, I want to elaborate on Shelly's request for text messaged scores while she was in Tiger stadium. She didn't say it explicitly, but clearly, she was looking for USC vs. Notre Dame updates. What she got was this series of messages, copied and pasted dirctly from my phone.

There's an oft emailed url to a web page for the worst album covers of all time. Even if you've seen it before, it deserves an occasional re-read. I think there's a new one to add to the worst cover of all time. Except now, it's called "cover art" instead of an "album cover," since it actually just comes with the downloaded music files from whichever service you get them these days.

This weekend, we had our first LSU tailgate party of the year that actually happened on a Saturday. We had absolutely perfect weather to sit outside and cook and bullshit for the entire day. I think we can all agree that God owed us some good football weather, and he didn't disappoint.

Yesterday, someone handed me a menu for a new restaurant in town. Zoe's has a regular, sandwich-heavy menu, and it's located in a new strip mall that is close to work and home. What jumped out at me was the egg sandwich on the menu. I've been on a quest to find a good egg sandwich in Baton Rouge for a couple of years.

It's a damn shame, trying to eat a forkful of rice, and not being able to get your mouth open far enough to prevent the upper lip from shoving rice off the fork and onto your shirt. That's been just one example of how my mouth has refused to work for the last few days.

I guess that today was the day that all of our new Saints fans in San Antonio found out what being a Saints fan is all about. Joe San Antonio was probably settling into his couch at noon, pretty geeked up about his new favorite NFL team. He went to the game last week, yelled long and loud, and saw his team play pretty well in beating a mediocre Buffalo squad. Today's game was against 0-4 Green Bay, who was additionally handicapped by multiple injuries to key players.

Here is a collection of random observations with the uniting theme that they come from my business trip in Philidelphia. Think of it as four mini-blog posts, that you get for the low low price of one single post.

I read this article in Sunday's New York Times. My first reaction was, "What crazy people. Who would behave like this at someone else's wedding?" Then I remembered that at a close friend's wedding reception, the groom's father got into an angry shouting match with the priest who presided, and threatened to drop an ass-kicking on him. I'm pretty sure alcohol was involved there.

Today, I went to Chick-fil-a for the first time. I had eaten a sandwich that someone had picked up for me once before, but this was the first time that I actually went into one of their stores. There were three registers open, and only one customer at the counter. I stayed back to look up at the menu, since I didn't know what they offered.

It's a shame when I'm not smart enough to get the joke on my fast food cup.