My family is sitting second row for a Clemson home game. I knew it was going to be noisy. I expected it. But, there’s a man behind us who knows everything and won’t stop yelling into the back of my head. Part of me wishes he’d just put on a jersey and show us all how the game should be played. And just when I don’t think he can get any more obnoxious—he does. The refs make a few bad calls against our beloved team, and he loses it! “What’s wrong with you, ref?” Then—at the top of his lungs—he yells a long-winded “Boooo!” at every play for the rest of the game. I agree with his assessment, but I’m more irritated with Mr. Boo Fan than the refs because he’s keeping me from appreciating my second-row seats!

I'm driving down the road to see a friend. I love her, her parents and her relationship with her twin brothers. I'm even willing to love her dog, even though I'm allergic, because I just want what she has. I actually just want to have her life instead of mine...or maybe mine with a few adjustments. I love everything about my family, my mom, my brother, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, and all of my many cousins. But, if I'm to be honest, I feel disappointed in the dad area.