Bracket Bitch!

This is my 60th (worthless) blog post! I guess I haven't been writing as much lately, which you can blame on my new career as.....wait for it....NCAA March Madness Bracket Manager! Turns out anyone can manage a bracket. All you has to do is email your friends and then harass them until they each cough up $5.

Actually, mostly I don't blog because I'm sad and nobody likes to read about someone being sad. But if you are sad, you should listen to this:



Anyway, back to the basketball business. I know nothing about basketball, but it has been fun reinventing myself as a sports enthusiast. The kind that picks teams like Morehead because, well, it should be obvious. If it's not, I'll tell you when you're older.

Motorcycles

The proximity of my bedroom to the bathroom shared with my roommate is, well, close. One might even use the word 'adjacent.' So close that he recently left the bathroom and stopped at my door to ask if I had "heard the Harley." Shudder.

Easy choice.

Ah, I notice that on your Facebook status update you are defending a congressional candidate who openly criticized public school teachers and called for the abolishing of public education. I shall now un-friend you. That was easy.

Diagnosis

I can't speak. Which means I either have laryngitis OR one of you is exceptionally skilled with the voodoo doll. These are the only explanations I can think of. I have already ruled out heavy smoking and free-basing as I usually save those activities for the summer months. Also, many of you may not know this, but one of the lesser-known (and incredibly embarrassing) symptoms of laryngitis is crying like a baby during a community college jazz choir's a capella rendition of Billy Joel's "So it goes." Another symptom is making others uncomfortable with my silence. "Are you mad at me?" Silence. "Are we fighting?" Silence. "Paper or plastic?" Silence. Stay tuned for tomorrow's series of whiny posts as I plan to stay home and record my misery in a special stream of consciousness blog.