Scooby Dooby Doo, Where Are You?

I did many things last week, most of which were very routine and therefore undeserving of mention herein. However, it is my belief that at least a couple of them were slightly less routine and consequently worthy of note, for what is the purpose of this blog if not to expound upon the triumphs and travails of the collegiate week (phrase taken from our 11th grade history textbook, as in "The Triumphs and Travails of the Jeffersonian Republic), even if they are none too triumphant when compared to other triumphs, nor travailent when compared to other travails. Not to be confuse with trivalent. Because one is a word, and one isn't, and in any case I haven't taken a chemistry class since tenth grade, and do not intend to break that trend any time in the foreseeable or unforeseeable future.

The last time anybody made a list of the top hundred character attributes of New Yorkers, common sense snuck in at number 79.

There comes a time once in every runner's life when he forgets what it is like not to be acquainted with the sport. More specifically, there comes a time once in every runner's life when he forgets what it is like not to be acquainted with people who wear very short shorts and think that it's perfectly normal. And for those not aware, I ought to inform you that I am using a very liberal definition of the word "once." But more on that in a minute. We're taking the chronological route for this one.