Fryday.

I'm having one of those weeks when my head is aswarm with music. I can barely think for all the songs ringing between my ears. I'm trying to sort out a lot of jumbly weirdness that has happened this week and shake off all the eerie feelings that keep clinging to me. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

On a lighter and brighter note, in a few short hours, the pup will be packed up and we're heading to Charlotte to hang with family. For the fam, this weekend holds a great occasion, as the Packers have made the Super Bowl. Though most sports mean less than nothing to me, I will even don some green and gold, though those colors do nothing for my complexion. That's how much I love these people. And I'm going to my sister's basketball game today (if I didn't look so much like my mom, I'd swear I was adopted). This is a big damn weekend. So much sports. I'm going to have to drink a lot. (What is the etiquette of bringing a flask to a high school basketball game?)

Here's a song I'm playing over and over as I down the biggest cup of Circle K coffee ever:



I have a crush on this song. I wish I could feel about a boy the way I do about this song. This song is a 6-foot-tall, brown haired dude with a beard and hidden tattoos and a husky laugh and fantastic cooking skills who can open jars and wears Band of Outsiders. THAT'S how much I love this song.