I had a nice Saturday, even though it included 1. eating crow, and 2. having my ego brought back to earth.

Once in a while, when I am at the local nail shop getting a pedicure, I also have my eyebrows waxed. Even though I always tell them in pidgin english "not too thin", after a few months of untrained Vietnamese immigrants pouring hot wax on my forehead, my eyebrows started to resemble those of Greta Garbo. Granted, if I was a beautiful, foreign movie star in the 1940s (or Joan Crawford), I may have been able to pull it off. Since I am none of those things, I was beginning to look ridiculous. So I ventured back to "Martha", the best eyebrow lady around, did my mea culpa, listened to her "tsk, tsk" about my eyebrows, and I am back on the road to having the remaining brows shaped in a (semi-) appealing arch.

Then I stopped by the local pub to put in my NFL picks for the week, and enjoy a lovely wine spritzer. I endured a fair amount of ribbing from the locals about just giving the money directly to me, until Ron walked in. While I was beginning to think I could quit my day job and just make a living betting football in Vegas, what with my two wins this season, I learned that Ron has won the pool THREE times, including last week. He's about 80 years old.

Good news, I'm still the high bidder on the Jerry O'Connell photo!