How Little of the Giants

I did not intend to watch the Giants game last night, but on Day 3 over here, the jet-lag, time-difference crap hit me like a frigging Louisville Slugger to the temple. So, at 1:30 a.m., that's 8:30 Manasquan Standard Time, the Giants and Cowboys kicked off and I watched.

And I watched, and watched. And I turned the TV off two, maybe three times, and I could not sleep, so I watched the whole dreary thing. Not good considering I had an 8 a.m. (3 a.m. MST) wakeup call. So, you do the math. Finally nodded off around 4:30, got me 3 and a half, solid.

Then it was a full day of work that I will not bore anyone with. Too much driving, too little food and a return to the hotel at 10:15 p.m. to learn that they stop serving food in the restaurant at "half past nine."

Mother-bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

"We can have a cold sandwich made for you, sir," the gal at the front desk said, to which I think I replied, "Gimme, gimme, gimme...." Snorted a chicken salad sandwich on "brown" bread, threw back some hot nuts (right) and a Guinness..and God, help me get 6-8 hours tonight. Please help me, dude.

This is when, at 45, I get homesick. I do not like 11-day roadies anymore. Three nights away and I'm usually ready to get back to Linda, Tyler and Beau. That's where I am right now. Yeah, yeah, I know what you're all thinking, "Cry me a river, Brads." I think I just need some sleep.

Big news is that I'm checking out of Hotel Sterile -- in some industrial park -- and into some neighborhood Inn. Once Brian (the owner of the Inn and I are now mates), told me they had wireless internet, I was in. Being in England is only fun if you can get out and see things. When you have to get a cab any time you want to see something that doesn't look like Lyndhurst, then why the hell do you want to be in England, anyway? So, I'm moving into the Market Cross soon.

Met and interviewed a lot of good people today. Might be able to see me on telly here soon. I'll let you all know. As many of you know, I'm about as comfortable on TV as Albert Brooks in Broadcast News (how 80s is that reference? Does anyone but me remember that flick?).

No games to keep me awake tonight. Let's hope there's not a sequel to the Blondie Documentary.

Lovely then.

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