The most important part of my day came at 11 a.m. this morning. That was the exact moment that I put Alexis on the volleyball bus and shipped her off to Huntsville, Alabama to watch her teammates play in a tournament this weekend. It felt (as i imagine) like sending your child off to his/her first day of Kindergarten. I know that I'm not gonna be there to take care of her. I also know that she is as independent as I am, and almost as stubborn. This, coupled with the fact that some of her teammates could win the Most Dim-Witted Person on the Planet Award, makes me a rittre uneasy. She'll be back Saturday night. Until then, I'm picturing one of her friends bumping her right off her crutches. If that happens, I'll be in jail for homicide.
The second-most important part of today (for me) doesn't come until 6:30 p.m. That is the starting time of my Intramural Sand Volleyball Championship Match. I wish I could say that I'm focused on playing well, strategies, and whatnot, but I'm pretty much just thinking about what color my "Intramural Champions" shirt is gonna be. We breezed our way through the regular season, completely dominated the Elite Tournament, and are going to destroy the poor saps that play us in the University-Wide Championship. "Ahh, the clumsy adolescents. Not me though, I land on all fours." 
The Arkansas Tech Wonderboys christened their new stadium with a wet, muddy, sloppy victory last night. I was a first-hand witness. Ok, I saw most of the game. I didn't see all of it because I was focused on keeping Alexis' leg properly elevate, holding the umbrella in a position that would shield her entire body from rain, and keeping an eye out for careless, clumsy morons that walked by without noticing that there was an injured person sitting there. (Seriously, one guy almost kneed the crap out of her leg, and I almost tackled his ass down 30 rows of bleachers. Lex saw my face, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it to calm me down.)
With regards to a phone call last night, I know I'm 24 years old and that I should be partying and enjoying my college years, but right now I have a few responsibilities that need to be addressed. In about 6-8 weeks, I'll have all the time in the world to drink, party, and make decisions that I (hopefully) will regret in the morning. I'm already getting reamed by my new housemates about my "romantic inexperience." Example: I took one of those e-mailed surveys today and encountered this question: Who do you think will be your next kiss? My response: probably my mom....depressing.
On a brighter note, a friend of mine made what could be the funniest comment in the history of human events last night. We were discussing the phenomenon of perfectly sane, attractive, white girls getting wooed and used by football players. Editor's Note: Given that I am a former footballer, I am fully aware that not all football players are assholes and that this is a somewhat unfair stereotype. Alexis was telling us about a few of her freshman teammates that have fallen in with the aforementioned jerks. My buddy Steven then dropped a line that I will forever be jealous about. "Girls should just stay away from football players. They're practically trained killers." I understand that you probably just chuckled a bit. If you would have been there and heard the PERFECT inflection and tone in his delivery, you'd be searching for a new pair of pants because you would have laughed until you peed.
I'm gonna get a new bike soon, too. As everyone already knows, my old one got stolen....bastards. Anyhooch, I'm gonna get a new one, and I'll ride that bitch all over this damn town.
That's about it people. I know it seems boring, but most of my current life consists of remembering when the last Hydrocodone pill was taken and helping a girl get to the bathroom at 3 a.m. because she hasn't got used to her crutches yet.
