Uh. Lunch has left me full and lethargic. And the cafeteria, which is near my desk, is jammed with people buying stuff for some breast-cancer fund-raiser. I couldn't even move through there when I got back from lunch. I went around through our other door.

Anyone who's seen SportsCenter in the past 12 hours knows about this. The poster boy for white trash. When asked why he and his 15-year-old son jumped the fence at Comiskey Park and attacked the Kansas City Royals' first-base coach last night, the 34-year-old heroin addict (I'm just speculating here) claimed, "He flicked us off. He got what he deserved." Um, yeah. First off, jerk, you might've meant "flipped" you off, but if he shot a booger in your general direction, it's only because he assumed you were the trash heap. And have two of you gang up on an unsuspecting man 20 years older than you and sucker-punching him and hitting him when he's down says a lot about your lack of cahones. Enjoy being someone's bitch.

Did some decorating around the ol' computer today. Brought in two photos of New Jersey's Barnegat Lighthouse and Maine's Pemaquid Point Lighthouse and set them up on the desk, beneath the calendar I brought in the other day. The Homer water bottle has its place, and a plastic cup from Wrigley Field is now my pen holder. I also brought in the Jeff Manto bobblehead doll, but I'll leave that in its box in my drawer until Monday. Don't feel like leaving it out over the weekend.

OK, back to work.