Saturday is the one day of the week when I might actually sit around and watch some sports -- just lie on the couch and let the innings crawl by, maybe fall asleep, wake up as the game is ending.

That's summer living.

Except Saturday is also the day of the lamest selection of games. Yeah, there's the Indians, but that's not particularly. I'm looking for the Mets or one of their competitors in the National League East. Every once in a while ESPN will carry a Mets game, but on Saturday's the MLB makes sure no one gets to see anything good. Such crap.

So instead I watched a show about a couple of guys trying to capture a chupacabra. It was a lot like watching a Mets game, in that in the end there was no chupacabra. A couple of channels away some other biologists were hunting the South Pacific for the deadly iricongi jellyfish. That one damn-near put me to sleep.

But I'm up now, off the couch, ready to fire up the grill and make some burgers. Because it's August. And in August one must eat grilled burgers. A lot.