Watching sports with my dad is about the best thing ever.
This weekend we watched an incredible basketball game. The unranked Aggies dominated the Number 1 Longhorns for an entire game and a tiny bit of overtime until they finally fell behind to lose the game.
Now we're watching the Dallas Cowboys fight (unsuccessfully) for a chance at another Super Bowl Championship. It's like old times back in 1994 when I first started teaching. I lived a mile away and spent every Sunday night crying about another rough week at school and helping Dad coach from the sofa.
Watching sports with my dad is about the best thing ever. Even when our teams lose.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Twits
There is a new law in Austin which says one is not allowed to text and drive. A good law as far as I can tell. It went into effect on January 1.
That same day, January 1, I was driving in my car, and was stopped at a red light. I was using my phone to update my Twitter status. Out of the corner of my eye I was vaguely aware of the car next to me inching forward and moving in an odd manner. I was engrossed in my tweeting, and, anyway, I have learned to ignore the antics of the cars around me because, being the super hot female I am, I am convinced they are filled with men trying to get my attention. They never are.
Except in this case. I finally looked to my left, and the fellow in the car next to me is gesturing wildly. I realize he's trying to get me to let him in so he can turn right at the light. He is a twenty-something, and so is the girl sitting in his passenger seat. I roll my window down to clarify his request, and to confirm that I will, indeed, let him get in front of me to make his right turn. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and all that.
He proceeds to inform me that he is lost, and he's sorry he has to cut in front of me, and, by the way, "You're not supposed to be texting and driving."
My initial response is to be slightly annoyed with him. I mean, who is he to be correcting my bad driving habits? He's trying to cut in front of me to take a right turn because he's lost for pity's sake. But then I decide to interpret it as a gesture of friendliness. He's saving me from an altercation with the pigs.
Still, I reply, "I'm not texting and driving. I'm tweeting. And stopping."
"What's tweeting?" he asks.
"You know. Twitter." I tell Mr. 20-whatever.
"What's Twitter?" he asks.
Really? Here I am, an almost 40 something, breaking technology news to a 20 something? Hm.
"Google it," I say as the light turns green and we roll off on our respective merry ways.
Happy New Year.
That same day, January 1, I was driving in my car, and was stopped at a red light. I was using my phone to update my Twitter status. Out of the corner of my eye I was vaguely aware of the car next to me inching forward and moving in an odd manner. I was engrossed in my tweeting, and, anyway, I have learned to ignore the antics of the cars around me because, being the super hot female I am, I am convinced they are filled with men trying to get my attention. They never are.
Except in this case. I finally looked to my left, and the fellow in the car next to me is gesturing wildly. I realize he's trying to get me to let him in so he can turn right at the light. He is a twenty-something, and so is the girl sitting in his passenger seat. I roll my window down to clarify his request, and to confirm that I will, indeed, let him get in front of me to make his right turn. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and all that.
He proceeds to inform me that he is lost, and he's sorry he has to cut in front of me, and, by the way, "You're not supposed to be texting and driving."
My initial response is to be slightly annoyed with him. I mean, who is he to be correcting my bad driving habits? He's trying to cut in front of me to take a right turn because he's lost for pity's sake. But then I decide to interpret it as a gesture of friendliness. He's saving me from an altercation with the pigs.
Still, I reply, "I'm not texting and driving. I'm tweeting. And stopping."
"What's tweeting?" he asks.
"You know. Twitter." I tell Mr. 20-whatever.
"What's Twitter?" he asks.
Really? Here I am, an almost 40 something, breaking technology news to a 20 something? Hm.
"Google it," I say as the light turns green and we roll off on our respective merry ways.
Happy New Year.
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