![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
49 not out
Monday, February 4th, 2008 06:06 pmToday the Sheep of Destiny has laid me an egg. No, honestly.
I took the day off work; no-one should be expected to go into work on their birthday, so I booked the day off. It meant that I was able to watch the Superbowl last night without worrying about only getting four hours' sleep. I'm frankly not sure that it was an hallucination, though. Any game in which Eli Manning is named MVP is an odd game and quite likely fictional. Before the game I had a marginal preference for New England, but that was wiped out (irrationally) by Coach Belichick's cynical referee challenge when the technical infringement had no effect on play. So I plumped for the Giants, buoyed by their defensive performance. Four points down with less than two minutes to go and a drive down the length of the field needed, I assumed, as I expect did most people, that it was beyond their offense to make the yardage. And then the team stumbled upon the answer, one of those things that seems so obvious in hindsight. When your quarterback perpetually overthrows, allow the pass rush to force him back down the field - then his overthrows suddenly hit their targets perfectly.
Eli Manning, MVP. Good Grief.
I nipped down to GOSH this lunchtime and picked up a signed copy of Lost Girls and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Black Dossier. I already knew that the former was classed as erotica (hem hem), but I must say that it is a little more ginger than I was expecting. It is positively ripe. Not one for the maiden aunt, then.
The rest of the day has been rather quiet and I have listened to some music and completed a few chores. Quite restful, in fact and somewhat different to the birthdays I had in the 80s. I think they would kill me now; a couple of them nearly did back then...
I took the day off work; no-one should be expected to go into work on their birthday, so I booked the day off. It meant that I was able to watch the Superbowl last night without worrying about only getting four hours' sleep. I'm frankly not sure that it was an hallucination, though. Any game in which Eli Manning is named MVP is an odd game and quite likely fictional. Before the game I had a marginal preference for New England, but that was wiped out (irrationally) by Coach Belichick's cynical referee challenge when the technical infringement had no effect on play. So I plumped for the Giants, buoyed by their defensive performance. Four points down with less than two minutes to go and a drive down the length of the field needed, I assumed, as I expect did most people, that it was beyond their offense to make the yardage. And then the team stumbled upon the answer, one of those things that seems so obvious in hindsight. When your quarterback perpetually overthrows, allow the pass rush to force him back down the field - then his overthrows suddenly hit their targets perfectly.
Eli Manning, MVP. Good Grief.
I nipped down to GOSH this lunchtime and picked up a signed copy of Lost Girls and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Black Dossier. I already knew that the former was classed as erotica (hem hem), but I must say that it is a little more ginger than I was expecting. It is positively ripe. Not one for the maiden aunt, then.
The rest of the day has been rather quiet and I have listened to some music and completed a few chores. Quite restful, in fact and somewhat different to the birthdays I had in the 80s. I think they would kill me now; a couple of them nearly did back then...