I'm a little distracted today. Maybe it's from a nice weekend (yes, I bought a tux, and I don't regret it), or maybe it has something to do with some sort of football game tonight.

I do have a bunch of things on my mind, though. I'd like to get them on "paper" before they float away ...

The Packers vs. Brett: Between 1995 and 2008, I didn't miss a single Packers game. I found Packers bars in foreign countries, when needed, and I lived and died by the Green and Gold. But after Brett vs. Ted rocked my world, I haven't watched a single Packers game all the way through. Last year, I would've gone to the ends of the earth to defend Favre, and I instead took out my frustrations on boycotting the Pack. This year, I'm simply despondent to see Brett take out his childish vendetta against his most loyal fans. Now, I've grown apart from the Packers, yet I must watch the game tonight. Some say that it's like watching a car crash: gruesome, but you can't look away. To me, it's like what I imagine it would be like to endure a divorce after a long, tumultuous marriage. For the first year, you want nothing to do with your ex or your former in-laws. Then, the next year, when your ex goes and marries your worst enemy, you have to show up to crash the wedding -- probably wielding a bat. I'll be watching the game tonight at home in saddened silence. Of course, I'll be rooting for the Packers, but mostly rooting for my fallen hero to break his leg. This isn't a cause for a celebration. Whoever wins, scorned Favre fans lose.

The shark not jumped: This fall, I feel like I'm watching some of my favorite shows only out of obligation or loyalty. Whether it's "The Simpsons," "Entourage" or "The Office," they just don't make me laugh out loud anymore. The exception is "Curb Your Enthusiasm." Last night's episode, which begins the "Seinfeld" reunion, was simply brilliant. Season after season, Larry David still brings it, and the next few episodes are only gonna get better.

Too cold, too soon: I don't have much to say about this, but it feels like mid fall already. My heat is on. I'm wearing socks. It's getting dark early, and Daylight Savings Time isn't even here yet. Where did summer go?

Call me Al: Just five days until Al's Run, and I'm basically ready for the five-mile race. Unlike the Storm the Bastille back in July, I've made steady progress and have run up to six miles several times in the last month. The only thing holding me back right now is a case of painful shin splints, which comes from doing too much too soon. The only cure, I'm told, is rest, but I don't have that luxury. I'll take any advice I can get right now, but I fear I'm en route to an excruciating, hobbling hour of running on Saturday. I know it'll hurt, but it's worth it.

Hope springs eternal: A year ago today, I was sick with Brewers playoff fever. Now, all I have to look forward to is next spring. A disappointing season, to be sure; it played out a lot like we all expected it to. Without decent starting pitching, and thanks to a few key injuries, the Brewers couldn't keep up. I don't completely blame Doug Melvin for this; he doesn't make trades just to make trades. But I'll say this, for the first time: if Melvin doesn't right the ship next year, he'll need to go. The core of the team is too talented to hang around .500 for too long.