Friday, March 13, 2009

The Tournament and some Ancient History

The computer caught a virus. I've been busy. I can't really do this shit at work any more. Y'all saw the Bowl, right. We're still not sure that Santonio Holmes (never mind whether he should have been penalized for his LeBron>Garnett>Jordan talcum powder bit) came down in bounds...and the tuck rule should have applied to Warner's well as a 15 yard penalty for taking off the helmet. I don't have that kind of Hate in me any longer.

Ancient history out the way...I wouldn't have covered regardless...(pause, memory jogged) oh yeah...I had Cards 3, Steelers 0, muthafucka. For shits and giggles (these pools are not my thing), we quickly filled up a pool (about 15 dudes and 10 birds (the birds stayed upstairs, of course, but came down for the endgame). When it was 20 - 14 and the Cards had the ball, I told the room that the safety and the TD were coming. The punt was downed on the one. I get the safety. But, I knew I was sunk when Fitzgerald broke free with so much time. The Cards hadn't made a defensive stand all year.

Oh yeah, and I dominated my once-a-year dabbling at rugby for fairies. 25-45 for about 260 (only a 60-yd field, but I hit 3 50-yard passes), 3TD 2INT and made 3 picks on D, one to the house. I would have hooked up your fantasy team like a muthafucka. All right, now the ancient history is out the way.

It's that time of year when we all get the unofficially sanctioned chance to fuck off at work...NCAA Tournament pools. The enterprising sort might, as was suggested, have told himself that this was going to be the year he would follow college hoops to fill out kick-ass brackets. I tried that one year, nailed 14 out of the last 15 games, and still didn't win. I've since decided that the bragging rights and caysh aren't worth it.

But I did catch the last 5 minutes and first four OTs of last night's 'cuse - UConn epic. We were post-gamin' at some joint, only planning to hang out until midnight. My homeboy's bird works in a SBUX {{location redacted}} close to the bar. My buddy drives them both home, in exchange for some complicated drink. I don't know the name of it; if a strawberry daquiri is a pink pussy, this was, like, a Palestinian pussy or some shit.

With the game running past closing time, my (unemployed) homeboy calls up his bird and tells her to walk over to the bar- pimp hand, right?- under the pretense that three of us were 'cuse alumni. My buddy had on an orange sweater, so it was plausible. I appreciated the pimp-hand move, so I asked my homeboy if she comes home each day saying, "Bitch, where's my dinner?" He replied that he does the asking...nice!

She comes walking in (probably around the 3rd OT) with SBUX goodies. My buddy would have sat through 10 OTs, but I was bailing after the 4th, no matter what (I was tired from the previous night's bender). They all followed my lead. My homeboy immediately told me that his bird thanks me for getting my buddy to leave. I told him, next time, she knows who gets the coffee. I could have used it, as I just about made it home.

No comments: