Admit it: Jets fan or not, you were excited for Wednesday's premeire of Hard Knocks. How could you not be?

Rex Ryan. Darrelle Revis. Rex Ryan's stomach. LaDainian Tomlinson applying for his AARP card. If Hard Knocks couldn't get you pumped for football season, nothing could.

Anyway, like I did for the Jersey Shore premiere a few weeks ago, I took it upon myself to keep a running diary for all to enjoy. Was it the most original idea? Of course not, a million writers have done it before me. But was it the best way to capture all the hijinks from Jets camp? I think so.

Regardless, let's pick things up at 10:02, since I missed the first couple minutes after getting lost on the way back from a friend's house.

Enjoy.

Like any writer, I've got good days and bad. Sometimes, I wake up, shave, shower and bang out 2500 words, all with enough spare time to grab a lunchtime cocktail afterward (I like those days). Others, I'm groggy, slow, and procrastinate, making myself as valuable to society as Snooki from Jersey Shore.

Also like any writer, my thoughts come to me at all kinds of strange times and in weird places. Laying in bed, walking the dog, showering, whatever. And when those thoughts come, I need a quiet place to write before I lose them, and my motivation to work.

Luckily for me there's a college library right down the street. Now to you, having a college library right next door might not mean much, but to a writer, it's like hitting the lottery: Quiet, open at all kinds of weird hours, with nice girls to look at too. And fortunately, I've even still got a few years before I turn into the creepy old guy hanging out there. Which is a good thing.

Anyway, a few nights ago was one of those times where I needed peace and quiet, and I needed it at a weird time of night. What was supposed to be a quick stopover turned into a seven hour stay, with me finally emerging from the library well after 1 a.m., bleary eyed, slurry speeched and staggering, like I'd just gone 12 rounds with Manny Pacquiao (See what writing does to me?)

Right next to the library is a pretty prominent music school, and as I was walking by I was shocked to hear noise coming from it. I know it's a music school, but come on, it was 1:30 in the morning, and these kids are in college. Didn't they have binge drinking to do or something?

Anyway, by now I bet you're thinking, "Aaron what does any of this have to do with the NFL Combine." I'm getting there.

My point is, that after spending the better part of the last four days on my couch, in my underwear, watching the NFL Combine, I can never again judge anyone for how they choose to use their time. Ever. Whether it's playing the flute at 1:30 in the morning, hanging out at adult bookstores, watching The Big Bang Theory, whatever, nothing was as pathetic as me these past four days. Nothing. I am now officially the last person in the world who can throw stones.

Much like waking up after a long night of drinking and looking through your text log, I'm not exactly sure how I got to this place. To use another analogy, the Combine elicited similar emotion to driving by a car crash, once it caught my eye I couldn't turn away. No matter how bad I wanted to.

But just because the last four days turned into an epic waste of time, doesn't mean that I didn't learn anything. Quite the opposite actually.

So for all of you who didn't have the chance to watch (I know, I know, you had "work responsibilities." Whatever.) I took copious notes. On the pretty and ugly, highs and lows, and bad jokes and bench presses mixed in. This is "The Good, The Bad and The Goofy of the 2010 NFL Combine." Enjoy.

Ahh Super Bowl Sunday. The big day. When two teams do battle for the Vince Lombardi Trophy, an NFL champion is crowned and you have a few too many drinks, and end up hitting on your friend’s 15-year-old cousin (Sorry bro, the braces should have been a dead giveaway). Good times. Dare I say, great times.

Of course it’s all fun and games until it’s your turn to host. Then what? What about the food and drink? What about the prop bets and Super Bowl boxes? Where do you even start?

Well luckily for you, I’ve been to a few Super Bowl parties in my day. Good ones, bad ones, forgettable ones, you name it, I’ve seen it all. Well except for the Jets winning the Super Bowl. When that happens, then I’ll have seen it all.

Either way, I’m here to help. Here to give you the answers to all your questions, as well as a few you probably didn’t even think to ask.

I’m here to help you (yes you, you bozo) throw the “Ultimate Super Bowl Party.”

Enjoy

The text came at 10:03 p.m.

It was from my buddy Matt, and was right to the point: "Wait, Vince Young is a Pro Bowler???"

He sure is Matt. He sure is.

You may remember Young, the Pro Bowler, as a guy who didn't start any of his team's first six games of the season, or throw a pass in any their first four. Not because of a nagging injury, suspension or any kind of drug/PED/sex tape scandal. Nope, VY's team and coaches just thought that Kerry Collins- Kerry freakin' Collins- gave them a better chance to win football games than he did. It took six straight losses to prove otherwise.

And while Vince Young was playing in the Pro Bowl Sunday night, you know who wasn't? Just about everybody else.

The NFL's Offensive (Peyton Manning) and Defensive (Charles Woodson) MVP's didn't play. Neither did the game's most dynamic passer (Drew Brees), feel good story (Kurt Warner) and most polarizing player (the immortal Brett Favre). Tom Brady stayed at home with Giselle. So did Larry Fitzgerald with his volumizing shampoo. Same with Philip Rivers, Patrick Willis and Steven Jackson. Hell, Brian Cushing is a rookie, and even he didn't show up. Dwight Freeney, Reggie Wayne and Darren Sharper were in the building, but like roughly 70,000 paying customers, they were simply bored spectators.

Look at that list again. No Manning, Favre or Brees. No Brady, Rivers or Freeney. Now ask yourself this question: Is it time we stop this charade, and end the NFL's Pro Bowl?

The other day, when writing my column, “20 Thoughts from Another Saturday in College Football,” point No. 20 was that sometimes, football coaches “Are too smart for their own good.”

However, after spending four days listening to fans of football defend Bill Belichick for Sunday night’s fourth down fiasco in Indianapolis, I can’t help but wonder if the fans themselves are getting too smart for their own good. Either that or they’re going insane.

Look, if the 24-hour ESPNNews, Twitter, Deadspin, blogging world that we live in has done one good thing, it’s that it’s allowed everyone- from the top CEO at Sports Illustrated to the lowest fan on the totem pole (including guys like me)- a voice. Unfortunately, if Sunday proved anything, it’s that after chewing, swallowing and digesting something in the need-for-information world we live in, in some cases there may actually be too much opinion and too many voices out there.

Since I don't have the energy or brainpower to write a whole column every day of the week, I've decided to add a new segment to this website, "Aaron's Daily Rants."

Here is the first, on Eric Mangini and the Cleveland Browns:

I’m in love.

What’s that?  Well, he’s about 6’3 and a shade under 300 lbs.  He’s got a huge smile.  Come to think of it, he’s got a huge everything, including a sense of self confidence that can barely fit in his XXL polo shirt.

No, no stop, you don’t need to call my parents, it’s not that kind of love.  I’m in love with Rex Ryan, the new head coach of the New York Jets.

If you missed Ryan’s performance on Sunday afternoon, let me give you the quick Reader’s Digest breakdown.  Armed with an explosive defense and an unflappable rookie quarterback, Ryan and the Jets beat the New England Patriots 16-9.  Yes, those New England Patriots.

And yes, I know that it’s only Week 2.  And that Tom Brady is coming off major knee surgery.  But to understand the significance of the game, you need to go beyond the final margin of victory, and into the psyche of the New York Jets.  Not just the guys on the field, but the people in the stands.