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It’s March — and I’m Mad!

This sport of ‘basketball’ you speak of — is that right, ‘basket-ball’? Yeah. Never heard of it. Not interested.

(Yeah, yeah — I know what I wrote in my last post, about ‘March Madness’ and watching hoops all weekend and all that bullshit.

But that was before — before, I say, before — my very most favoritest team went in the goddamned tank in the first round. In an upset. An aptly-named, thoroughly infuriating ‘upset‘.

So, no basketball talk around here this weekend. The sport is dead to me. Dead. At least until next fall. March Madness can suck my ass.)

So, instead, I’ve begun my annual springtime sadly obsessive ritual — preparing for fantasy baseball drafts. Which basically involves buying a couple of magazines written by guys even more sad and obsessive than I am, and then spending several hours with other guys who are more or less exactly as sad and obsessive as I am, drafting our teams of professional athletes who don’t give a damn about why or whether we obsess about such nonsense. Oh, and they’re probably on steriods now, too, apparently.

(And you thought blogging was an exercise in pouring time down the toilet. Folks, this is tip-of-the-iceberg stuff around here. I waste more time before nine am than most people waste in an entire fricking week.)

Anyway, that’s about all I’ve got for now. I’m still mourning the loss last night, and — I mean, for crissakes, just dribble the damned ball! Pass to your own fricking team, get your heads out of your collective ass, and for the love of sweaty gym shorts, reeeee-fucking-boooooound!

Sorry. The wound is still a little raw, apparently. I think I’ll just head off to bed now — I’m sure I’ll manage to think of something else for tomorrow. Or Monday. Tuesday at the latest. It’s just… honestly — the first fricking round? Come on! This frigging blows. Whose idea was this ‘basket-ball’ bullshit, anyway?