Ah, the sweet, sweet smell of oranges...

Yeah, sorry I keep on missing posts. I've been messing with my new iMac and we still can't seem to get an Internet connection working. Oh, well.

Final score:
USC 55 OK 19

And, if I may: (I didn't write this--please don't sue if this is yours)

The Night Before Christmas-The Remix
'Twas the week after Christmas, when all through South Beach,
Not a Sooner was stirring, their victory; out of reach.
The Heisman was hung by his locker with care,
In hopes that Matt Leinart soon would be there;
The Trojans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of championships danced in their heads;
And Norm in his headset, and I with a smirk,
Had just settled down for a long evening's work,
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sideline to see what was the matter.
Away to the press box I hauled some ass,
Tore to the window and looked through the glass.
The moon on the breast of the white, sandy beaches,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects beneath us,
When, what to my wondering eyes should roll in,
But a stretch Escalade, a dozen Trojans within,
With a fearsome old driver, strong as a tsunami,
I knew in a moment it must have been Tommy.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
Now, Leinart! now, Bush! Now, Lutui and Bing!
On, Cody! On White! On, Tatupu and Ting!
To the top of the stadium! Get on top of the ball!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fall,
When they meet with an obstacle, overpower them all,
On to the end-zone the coursers they flew,
With their hearts full of joy, the Sooners, subdue.
And then, in a fury, I heard on the field
The cheering and shouting quickly revealed.
As I drew in my breath, and was turning around,
Into the end-zone, Leinart came with a bound.
He was dressed all in cardinal, his entire selection,
And his clothes were untarnished, thanks to good pass protection;
A bundle of tricks he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a warrior on the attack.
His eyes -- how they burned! His muscles so scary!
His arms were like weapons, his chin oh so hairy!
His droll little mouth was curled up in a sneer,
For he knew a second championship soon would be here;
A piece of the turf he held tight in his grip,
As the Sooners were noticeably starting to slip;
He had a broad face and an arm like a gun,
That launched 80 yard touchdowns, simply for fun.
He was lean and pimp, a right jolly young knight,
And I laughed when I saw him dominate J. White.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Sooners need know, they have something to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And shredded the defense; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, into victory he rose;
He sprang to his feet, and to his team gave a shout,
And the celebration began, the Sooners were out.
Then I heard him exclaim, as he received the game ball,
"Fight on all you Trojans, I'll be back in the fall!"