Man I guess I'm growing up.
The day has come.
Tonight I am covering the local high school football game for the daily newspaper. Holla! I am officially a stinger/freelance reporter for the Union. Not too shabby considering it has about a 7,000 circulation. I'm excited yet nervous. I have a game plan all worked out. 2 notebooks, one where I can write down play by play and the other will be for more detailed notes/questions to ask the coach after the game. I got my fancy recorder all set to go, numerous pencils/pens and I get to sit in the press box. That's pimp in itself. No flashy press pass though I have to tell everyone where I'm from and they know I'm coming. I can just see the old dudes at the gates wanting some money outta me and I'm gonna be like hell no, I'm with the press! It should be a good time. I'll come back here, type type type up my story then I gotta go home bright and early tomorrow as opposed to tonight cuz I gotta go to my cousin's wedding.
Fun times fo shizzle.
Alrighty rooney. I'm out.
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