The Curse of Ra

Gah . . . long day and thus, short post.  Pat and I had the opportunity to attend a football game today high up in the upper bleachers at the mercy of the sun.  No hat.  No sunscreen.  No clue.

If the sun himself slapped us around a few times with a fist-full of red popsicles, we could not have left the stadium any redder and confused.  Irishmen, as our neighbors once explained, are naturally sensitive to sunlight among the cloudy climes of the British Isles in order to absorb essential vitamins.

After the game, my body overflowing with vitamin D, I jumped into the car with a throbbing headache, in desperate need of some rest and a bathroom (I could not suffer the stadium facilities after the game.  Too many people who drank too much beer . . .).  Even stopping at the bookstore on the way home only served to stop my headache and not the wave of dizziness that took up residence in its absence.  I drove home and slept for an hour or two, awoke and played a few rounds of Puzzle Quest — because its that addictive.

Anyway as a result of day’s adventures and my latest obsession with music videos, we have Smashmouth — a severe guilty pleasure of mine — as well as Steve Martin, just because I mentioned Ra in this post’s title.  Depending on your tastes, you might find yourself with a headache and a few catchy songs stuck in head all day long . . .