An Update and An Unfortunate Choice of Words

Hello everyone!

I apologize for not posting anything in a while, but lately I've been giving writing a novel another shot. This one is entirely different than the last attempt, though I haven't given up entirely on my first plot idea. Anyway, my hope is that I someday "get paid for this," especially since hardly anybody is hiring right now. Or at the very least, I'll simply finish something I start. And if it ever gets published, then the four or five people who read this blog can waste even more time reading the book. Or not.

But fret not, my dear readers! I'll still be posting here on a semi-regular basis, so check back often! And I'm really great at starting projects but terrible at finishing them, so who knows where this will go. But I hope I can use my blog as a way to update my progress (while not giving anything away) in order to keep myself motivated. I also might ask y'all for suggestions whenever I get stuck.

In the meantime, here's something Greg sent me a few weeks ago not long after the Super Bowl:

Of course, Roethlisberger went to Pittsburgh with the next pick and the rest, as they say, is history. As a Bills fan looking back on the 13th and 22nd picks being spent on Lee Evans and J.P. Losman, respectively, I still can't stop biting the pillow that they didn't package whatever it took to move up three spots and grab Big Ben.

Hmm.

For the moment, let's ignore the usual football-related innuendos such as these:

• "He got good penetration on that one"
• Wide receiver
• Splitting the middle
• "He's looking for the hole!"
• Lining up the slot
• Tight end
• "He nailed his man from behind!"

Okay, maybe we won't "ignore" them. But this still begs the question: why is this guy "biting the pillow"? Does he know what "pillow biting" means?

Let's consult the Urban Dictionary, shall we?

1. pillow-biter

An exceptionally vigorous butt-pounding between men in the dorsal-ventral position, generally noteworthy for its combination of depth, force and velocity, such that the poundee is transported to an otherworldly, orally-fixated state of extreme "hurt-so-good" pleasure as to unconsciously bite down on a pillow, duvet, forearm, Jack Russel terrier, or anything else that happens to come with close proximity of his mouth.

Now, I know absolutely nothing about this Nick Bakay, but I do not think what he wrote means what he thinks it means. And while, in theory, there's nothing wrong with being a pillow-biter if that's what floats your boat, there is something noteworthy about a sports writer proclaiming to the whole world that he became one in response to the results of a football draft.

Maybe there's something more to all the innuendos and ass patting than meets the eye. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Rob