Buzzer Beaten
Hey there, 'Redheads... It's 75 and sunny outside and I'm 35 and unkempt inside, smacking the 57 on the side of the ketchup bottle that is my brain, hoping that something worth a quick blog will slowly ooze out. Then you can dip your eyes in it. The things I do for you.
Even if I wasn't furiously typing, I'd be inside anyway, balanced precariously on the edge of my seat, watching the NCAA tourney on four separate channels and my girlfriend's iPad. Some great ones just finished up, including the nail biter between George Mason and Villanova, which was made all the more dramatic by the play-by-play of Gus Johnson. That man can make CSPAN sound exciting. But even he can get too caught up in the excitement. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure he screams, "EXPLANATION POINT!" as George Mason finishes off Villanova. What say you? That was one of the few games played today that I actually got right. I'd like to encourage all of you to text 9099 to help me recover from my devastated brackets. Paul the Octopus could've made better picks than me and he went to the big plate of calamari in the sky six months ago. I'm glad, though. Now the pressure is off and I can enjoy the tournament without obsessively checking to see if I got a game right. I can just assume I was wrong and enjoy my beer.
See you Monday.
Even if I wasn't furiously typing, I'd be inside anyway, balanced precariously on the edge of my seat, watching the NCAA tourney on four separate channels and my girlfriend's iPad. Some great ones just finished up, including the nail biter between George Mason and Villanova, which was made all the more dramatic by the play-by-play of Gus Johnson. That man can make CSPAN sound exciting. But even he can get too caught up in the excitement. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure he screams, "EXPLANATION POINT!" as George Mason finishes off Villanova. What say you? That was one of the few games played today that I actually got right. I'd like to encourage all of you to text 9099 to help me recover from my devastated brackets. Paul the Octopus could've made better picks than me and he went to the big plate of calamari in the sky six months ago. I'm glad, though. Now the pressure is off and I can enjoy the tournament without obsessively checking to see if I got a game right. I can just assume I was wrong and enjoy my beer.
See you Monday.
Labels: brackets, comedy, funny, Jared Stern, March Madness, NCAA
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home