Not your momma's arithmetic.

After convincing SRS to haul my fat ass over to downtown Walnut Creek, I finally got what I had been eagerly awaiting for three long months. At 3:32pm today, I became the proud new father of a five-pound, pudgy, joyfully round, blue-and-gold baby:


He has his mommy's eyes and his daddy's blood type: Twist-Hook Pain Train Beast Mode.

You can't tell, but that's Marshawn's autograph. And yes, it is just as beautiful as every oh-so-sweet glistening drop of sweat that comes from his body.

Here's the unfortunate part: EVERYTHING that he signed that day was signed #23, his current number with the Bills. Why he chose that path instead of signing his famous #10 on the Cal paraphernalia and reserving #23 for the Bills is beyond me. It's easier, I guess, but less satisfying to the fans.


23 is the new 10.

So I guess now whenever I do any sort of arithmetic, if I see the number 23, I have to replace it with the number 10. (Also, if I see any copies of "The Number 23" on store shelves, I have to buy them and melt them slowly with a magnifying glass. That's the kind of respect that movie deserves.)