The US Open was incredible last night. Roger Federer wasn’t on top of his game, but he didn’t even break a sweat. He kind of reminds me of an invincible mile runner who bides his time while upstart little punks try to sprint their guts out on the second lap, keeping the same pace and ultimately winning by thirty seconds. He dropped the first set and then cruised to victory in the next three, never even so much as accepting a towel from the ball boy to wipe his brow. Federer walking in to the Imperial March from Star Wars (Darth Vader’s theme) was quite possibly the most awesome entrance by any athlete I’ve ever seen. Neil and I spend about an hour a week discussing what our entrance songs would be if we were professional athletes, and neither one of us could believe we’d never come up with the Imperial March. Talk about obvs.

I finally built my desk tonight, so I’m no longer sitting on the floor. It’s the length of my wingspan, and utterly and completely awesome. I’ve only had it for 13 minutes now, and yet I can’t imagine my life before it.

I spent tonight in the Mariners locker room at Yankee stadium for a story I’m writing on Raul Ibanez, and it looks like I’m flying to Dallas this weekend to report on the Cowboys. This is pretty random, considering earlier in the week I decided I would be a Cowboys fan. My first football game in Texas. I can’t wait.

My throat is sore AGAIN. I eat vegetables, protein, whole grains, and I work out. Maybe there is something going on with my tonsils? Anyone? I average a sore throat a month. That doesn’t seem normal. But then, neither am I.

I’ve changed my ringtone from Britney Spears “Baby Boy” to her single “Gimme More.” There’s something so fantastic about my phone chirping: “It’s Britney, bitch,” whenever anyone calls. It’s too good.