By Hannah Wallace

[11/11/08 - With permission from my editors, I've stepped in and edited this post to remove the poorly chosen phrase that people have recently been so offended by (read about it in the comments below). Rest assured, my neuroses are better watchdogs of my smart mouth for the experience.]

First off, I’d like to give a shout out to American Idol for justifying so thoroughly why I do not watch it ever. Tuesday night, I DVRed it, watched and enjoyed Syesha’s performance, and then wondered what kind of crack Paula is sharing with the other judges. And then I got angry. And then I got angrier that I was getting angry about American Idol. And then I spent an hour dialing non-stop to vote all of four times (as CCB text-voted like a mofo, because he is awesome), and I vowed never ever to watch that stupid show again. God.
So yes, this will be a disjointed entry. I’ve got this whole, very organized (honest) entry detailing the décor of our house ready to be posted, but I can’t get the damn pictures to come out right, so that’s gotta be postponed. But I began panicking that I hadn’t posted a blog in so long, so I put together a replacement entry about horses and baseball players, which I had to scrap because it made no sense, obviously. Then I watched American Idol and decided that if the world does not have to make sense, then neither do I.
Sometimes my life makes me sad.
The story I’d mentioned about the baseball player was just that CCB and I met a pro baseball player in BFE at the batting cages on east Fruitville Saturday. Well, kind of. The guy, who was there with two small children, went out of his way to tell us that he played for the Baltimore Orioles—Angel Avila. We looked him up later: He was in Baltimore’s farm system but doesn’t appear to be playing any more. Still, fun to see someone smack some 70 mph pitches while you’re whiffing in the 40 mph cage.
The thing about the horse was that last week Ma got a letter to the editor published in the paper ( about Eight Belles, the Kentucky Derby’s second-place horse that was euthanized immediately after the race when she broke both her ankles. All this just three days after I finally saw Equus at the Asolo. Surreal. I also chatted about horses-as-athletes with a soccer buddy at Big Kick Thursday night. She’s an A-rated polo player—which I just think is cool—and runs local arena polo, a sport that I absolutely can’t envision. I had lots of things to say about horses, none of which was pertinent to anything.
I’d attempted to tie those two “stories” together under themes like young athletes, early retirement, euthanasia, horses and Mom. Close enough to logical segues that I couldn’t make myself delete the stories entirely from my blog; far enough away that I’m wishing I’d just focused entirely on American Idol after all.
If you want to make sure this random blogging doesn’t happen again (or happens less frequently), feel free to send me a camera that doesn’t suck. In the meantime, I need a copy of Ulysses to save me from pop culture brainwashing. Or to throw at the television during tonight’s show. Maybe I can do both.