Yesterday, we did pretty much nothing, or nothing worth reading about. Elvis messed around on the internet, I studied my Portugu�s, read, and we watched a bit of TV.

Today, we got up around 10:30, lounged around a bit, and went to the gym.

Pretty boring, no? You need a weekend like that sometimes.

Of course, I suppose could write about something else: Lord knows I have enough topics stored up from my internet access drought. And I would, too, if it weren't for the "gym" portion of the day. I pushed myself extra hard because of my lapse on Friday, and now my arms feel a bit too much like overcooked linguine.

Still, I'm sure I could soldier on if it weren't for one thing: Football.

Yes, another season is upon us, and I am psyched. Elvis and I will spend the evening huddled around his laptop, listening to the internet radio feed, just like the days of yore provided you ignore the computer and internet components. But we've got plenty of beer, hot dogs for Elvis, and brats for me. Granted, they're the dinky little N�remburg variety, but I've got kraut to compensate for that and the fridge is lousy with mustard. I love mustard. Love it.

Wisconsin won yesterday, which is a good start. And the Packers play early, which means that we may make it to bed at a reasonable time.

Ha!

We never make it to bed at a reasonable time on football Sundays. Oh, we tell ourselves that we'll be good, we'll be adults about the whole thing, but one game leads to the final bits of another, and another, and suddenly we're listening to a whole new game, and before you know it, it's the evening game and even though it's three in the morning you might as well see how it turns out.

Although, with the move to Portugal we've lost an hour, which should help somewhat with the sleep deprivation component.

As long as we don't get into the post-game commentary.