Meanderings: February 1, 2000

Tuesday,
February 1, 2000

You know, I just have two things to ask: 1) When the heck did the Rams go to St. Louis? And 2) who the heck are the Tennessee Titans?

Forgive me for wandering off into the wide world of sports, but after finding out the Super Bowl scores, I was flabbergasted by the teams themselves. The last I heard, the Rams were in LA -- California to Missouri has got to be something of a switch. But okay, teams move, that's a fact of life.

Having said that, who and what are the Tennessee Titans, apart from formerly being the Houston Oilers? It sounds like a college football team -- don't these people belong to a city? Where do they usually play? Who's paying them? I tried to access their webpage for more information, being the good little nethead that I am, but kept getting a message that said, "Catastrophic failure" and something about cookies on line 5. However, I do like Leigh Montville's comment in Sports Illustrated:

Let's see, the Oilers of Houston are now the Titans of Tennessee and the Rams of Los Angeles are now the Rams of St. Louis, replacing the Cardinals of St. Louis, who are now the Cardinals of Phoenix, Ariz. Is this the first Super Bowl in history to be played under the auspices of the Federal Witness Protection Program or what?

At least I'm not the only person who's confused. Maybe being out of the thick of things in Europe has its benefits, after all.

Uffda! This aerobics program seems to be having an effect on both my waistline and my Muse. I can see muscles popping up in my legs again (they always respond quickly to exercise, which is at least something to point to for fulfillment purposes while I'm waiting for the fat to go). And while I was bouncing up and down to a Susan Powter workout video (okay, so she's a bit OTT -- but her videos are damned good), the Muse leaned down and bit me on the ass. Concept + blood pumping to brain = urge to write.

So, sweating and panting, I sat down afterwards and hammered out 2,200 words of "Bartok and the Unicorn," to be finished tomorrow with any luck. It's dark, weird and twisted even for me -- which means someone out there will buy it, just to disprove the fact that I usually write fluffy stuff. Yea, for I yearn to be an Active member in SFWA, if only so that I can rec pieces for the Nebula and vote for officers, and such membership requires two more professional short story sales or one novel sale. So back to the salt mines it is for me, without a pithy ending for this entry but hey, that's how it goes sometimes. At least I've stopped complaining about the fukaktah ice.

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