Goats, Eve and Cold Soccer

I did something interesting today!

I milked a goat. It wasn't that big of a deal or anything. I just grabbed the teat and squeezed. Out came milk. I starved a young goat. All in a days work.

My buddy, who I call Katie, brought a goat from a friends farm for a project in one of his Curriculum courses at EMU. The whole thing was awesome. I felt like Bob Barker's women on the The Price Is Right or Vanna White. I'm not sure who I would want to be, though. Vanna White can fit through a straw, but she has to work with Pat Sajak. Barker's women (I'm currently passing on an awesome name for them for the sake of decency. It rhymes with Barker's Witches), have to get plastic surgery to fill out their dresses, but they get to work with Bob Barker. I can't decide.

There was goat poop everywhere. Some people stepped in it. I tried to stop them, but they were drawn by my beauty and paid with poop on their shoe. Oh, well. The price of beauty is always the right price. I guess that answers my earlier question. Being part of Barker's harem is better than being Ms. White. Go figure.

The aforementioned baby goat was awesome. It was so loud and it hated pavement. I wanted it. But then I remembered it grows up and I decided I don't have the means to take care of it. Katie was decked out in farmer's gear. But not real farmer's gear. More like Abercrombie and Fitch farmer's gear. Except not nearly as gay (not that there's anything wrong with that). And he was wearing his shirt.

The rest of the day was not as eventful as the goat experience. But I did make a connection between two of my classes, which, of course, I did not voice in my class for fear of being wrong or mistaken about my connection. We're reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce and I connected an image of a woman he was gazing at with Mark Twain's depiction of Eve. I could be way off-base, but it sure sounded alike to me. The more I think about it the more I wish I had said something. It could have been a profound moment. Maybe next week.

I ended my eventful day with a trip to Saline to cover the girls varsity soccer game for the Saline Reporter. It was cold, windy and rainy. I'm too smart for my own good and I defeated Mother Nature's attempt to make me miserable. The game was being played on the football field and I took advantage of...wait for it, wait for it...the PRESS BOX. Who would have thought I could be so brilliant. I guess that's what happens when you read a book or two.

Profounder is a word.

That's what happened today. Hopefully I jazzed it up enough to make it seem a little more interesting than it actually was, barring the goat incident. That really was awesome.

Oh. And I apologize for the half-naked man picture. It was unnecessary, but it gave me a laugh.