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C'mon, Brett, can't you just be satisfied with an ESPY award?
Over the past week a couple of things have come up that I just have to blog about. One, Brett Favre, what are you doing to me?! I celebrated your retirement, lauded you as "one of the best quarterbacks to play the game," and "a cultural touchstone." That wasn't enough for you? I fear your comeback, and the way it's already tainting my memories of you. Let me put it to you this way: As a kid, I was a huge Michael Jordan fan. I had Michael Jordan t-shirts, Michael Jordan books, and even got to see him play versus the Washington Bullets* (it was amazing — he had a perfect, length-of-the-court breakaway slam dunk that I'll never forget, though it was just another day at the office for Air Jordan!). When he retired, I mourned. But when he came back (I don't count his baseball year — I mean in 2001) — to Washington, no less? I despaired. Comebacks are rarely pretty. And Brett, if MJ can't do it, neither can you.
Secondly, I have a confession. After all my brave talk about forsaking my CD collecting habit and switching to MP3s, I relapsed. Last weekend my beau and I had the unbridled joy of spending a few days in Athens, GA. We had a stylish, classy rental car (read: Kia. I shouldn't bash it, though — we only had to fill the tank once!) with a CD player, and while at a swap meet at the fabulous 40 Watt Club, I came across a row of boxes of CDs, each only a dollar. A dollar! You can't buy an album of MP3s for a dollar, and even if you could, you sure as heck couldn't rock to it in the Kia! The first disc my eyes landed on was the Old 97's, and I was hooked. So add four to my tally, and consider me back on step one with that particular challenge. Oh well.
*Ok, so I'm dating myself significantly here. But so what — today I am 30! I officially have gravitas and adulthood. I'm now allowed to say things like "back in the day," and "in-the-snow-uphill-both-ways." Hooray!