Lame or not. That is the question.

The main man in my football life will not be playing in the game that I may be on the sideline for. Seriously. http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=3636531

Bengals vs. Jets. Jets home game. I work there. I love the Bengals. Looking forward to this all season. This is just that Black Irish "luck" I've been telling you about.

But wait...a thought! What if...because he's not playing, he's on the sidelines....he sees me. It'll obviously be love at first sight and I'm forced to decided: New York or Cincy? Love or adventure? But isn't love just one big adventure anyway? Stop judging me.

Editor's note...

I was told by a very dear friend that my original headline (I was attacked) for below's post was not cool. Because I love her and love that she cares, I have changed it. :)

Love you Lia.

My night with Mr. Mosquito

Ladies and gentlemen, friends and foes, I was attacked last night....by a mosquito!!

I'm not talking a few bites. I'm talking almost 10 bites that have swollen into the size of half dollars everywhere from my neck to my arms to the pad of my left foot. The tip of point finger on my left hand has a bite and is swollen (really awkward) and everyone knows (or should know), I'm left handed! It kind of hurts to type...sounds dumb, but it does.

Lastly, I can now be called the Hunchback of New York as my right eye is almost swollen shut from a bite on my eye lid. Heather can back me up on this.

I woke up at about 2:30 am, itching like crazy. When I woke up, I realized my right eyelid felt really weird, but figured I was really tired. I went to the bathroom to check it out and low and behold, I'm Rocky Balboa after his fight with Apollo Creed! I then tried to go back to sleep in the living room, thinking I would lose the damn blood-drinker...but he followed me.

I awoke again at 4:00 am and took a shower to get the mosquito juice off of me. I had been itching so much that I thought I was making it worse. I didn't really go back to bed after that...was scared of the damn mosquito.

Nonetheless, my vanity has been swept under the rug and I'm at work. I think it has gotten a bit better, but two people at work

have already commented on it.

New York mosquitos are mutant.

What a sexy beast I am. Sloth from Goonies and all.

ROOMIE SEZ

Ryan Reynolds and I actually have something in common.

To quote him..."Let it be known at the outset, I am not a runner. I am a running joke. Waking up at 4:30 am and jogging anywhere from 11 to 23 miles has been nothing short of horrifying. Although, I've never given birth to a professional basketball player through one of my tear ducts, I can't imagine a worse way to start the day."

Couldn't have said it better myself. The crazy thing about that statement is, Ryan is actually going to hit the pavement (hopefully not too hard, gotta watch out for those bleeding nipples -- read the article) and run the New York Marathon on November 2.

He does say... "Finally, if you happen to be in New York on November 2nd, come down and watch. Feel free to bring a smile, automated defibrillator, or a fresh set of nipples." So I'm taking that as a personal invitation and may just have to go and see Ryan run. Goo Ryan gooo!

My hump, my hump...

Happy Hump Day and what I like to refer to as "Please get over Day."

Lots going on, but had a moment this morning. I decided to walk to work before it gets too chilly and I can't anymore. It takes about 45 minutes, and since I had to be in by 6:45 am, I had an early start. I was walking, listening to Dave of course and saw two things that caught my attention:

1. Carnegie Hall. Just there as I walked. Very cool to walk by it at 6:15 in the morning and be like, "Oh just walking by Carnegie as I walk to work in the fabulous city that is New York."

2. Hooters on 56th & Broadway had a special message on their sign that read: WELCOME FOREIGN DELEGATES. Turns out foreigners enjoy Hooters just as much as Americans.

You Better Shape Up

Hello my folks - it's been a while! I've been slammed at work and frankly...too lazy to sign on at night (also don't have "real" internet). So here we are...with me and some news.

First off...the Bengals are 0-5 and if tonight continues the way it should, I'll be 5-0 in my fantasy league. This mixed bag of emotions got me into some drinking trouble Sunday which got me into even more trouble this morning where I found myself with a pounding head and upset tummy. However, since I work in PR, I am going to spin this negative into a jaw-dropping positive. My misfortune led to a few small steps of hearty fun.

So I drank too much on Sunday because my team can't pull a win. IF I hadn't drank so much and ate so little, I wouldn't have felt like I'd been hit by a bus this morning. Which means, I wouldn't have gotten off the train a stop too early because I was about to make myself a very uncool New Yorker. Which means, I wouldn't have stopped at Cafe Metro for a bagel and Gatorade to cure my killer of a headache and tummy yowling. Which means I wouldn't have walked by the GM Building (59th & 5th) to hear the songbird voice of Olivia Newton-John as she sang, "Hopelessly Devoted to You."

Turns out she is hopelessly devoted to an Australian breast cancer charity. She talked all about it on the Early Show this morning while I passed by, chowing on a cinnamon-raisin bagel. I could see her very clearly. I can't say that her "Grease" singing soothed my tummy, but I can say I did begin to feel better after she crooned. However, I was also downing an orange Gatorade at the time. Electrolytes are amazing.

On another note...Heather and I went and saw "Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist" Saturday night. Our inappropriate crush on Michael Cera has grown three-fold. Cute movie. Cute boy. Just cute.

When I manage to get another lunch hour sometime in the near 10 years, I will post some more. I have some collective thoughts on New York now, such as:

• New York is great because as much as you are constantly told to be "street smart" and to watch your back for "pick-pocketers," no one would ever dare to take the money from a homeless man and/or struggling musicians in the subway playing drums on a trash can. Even if you can clearly see $10s and $20s in their coffee cans and/or open guitar cases. Funny that way.