Before I start on my main subject, I just want to give a shout out (is that still cool to say?) to Samantha and Mike for visiting us cowpokes here in San Antonio. We feel honored when anyone visits us and in that context, Jenn and I would like to make sure everyone knows that an open invitation always goes without saying. We can take you to “The Worst barbeque in Texas,” the River Walk, the Alamo and of course, the now famous (infamous) Apple store. And by the way, I’m practically registered as an Alamo tour guide by now. Of course, you may experience an inordinate amount of gas while you’re down here, just ask Oliver. And if you want to buy a mask like “Nacho Libre”, there are a plethora of choices down here at El Mercado.
With that said, onto the main event:
It was great to receive that email from The iBookie with the news that I outlasted all the worthy competition—and worthy you were. For those that weren’t there (which would be everyone but Jenn), I got so excited that I almost started doing the Mexican Hat Dance. No offense Mayka. I did feel the need to restrain somewhat, as I do live with the former title holder, and her feelings were to be respected. She must now call me Captain Madness…okay, that was dumb.
Anyway, just because everyone at work looks at me differently after I told them about the money, picture and plaque on the wall, doesn’t mean anything (except that they're jealous). In fact, in the spirit of full disclosure, I feel that I have finally reached nirvana, that state of complete fulfillment, of wanting absolutely nothing. (That is of course until Playstation 3 comes out late November). I bet I speak for many of the family members when I say that I couldn’t care less about the money. I’m just excited to see my name on that plaque. Of course, I will still accept the money with open arms, or wallet as it were. In fact, has it been sent yet? Was it sent Priority? Is it cash or check? Just kidding…(no, but seriously).
Of course, this year I think the plaque should go right on the wall in front of the entry way. Not necessarily so visitors can see that I won (which I did)—but more so to show our family traditions, closeness, etc. Which reminds me: Mom, do you remember when you told me in Brawley (or Delano) that I was better than Nick at some things? I tried to tell Nick and he would just laugh at me with his too-cool 90’s montage jacket that he got for Christmas. Well, seeing as how Nick has barely escaped the cellar dwellers (aka Sam, Riley, Aiden, Oliver) the last couple of years, I think I found that some thing. Wow, the tournament’s not even over yet and the trash-talking has already begun. This must be how Gary Payton of the early 90’s felt, except that he never won a championship.
I know that all you conspiracy theorists are secretly weighing in on my victory. Let me clear up a few things:
No, Jenn did not fill out my bracket. I understand that you might be thinking that I agreed to pay her for her consulting services, but alas, the whole bracket was mine… MINE, I TELL YOU!!! MmmwwwaaaahahaHaHaHAHAHAAAA! (uhhh, okay...).
In fact, I think Jenn’s fall from the top came about due to her extensive research. In the past, it’s gone down pretty much the same each year: 1. Jenn gets her bracket 2. She keeps me up till 2 in the morning the night before (voluntarily, of course :). 3. And finally she fills it out after asking me questions I pretend to know the answers to. This year was a bit different. In fact, the evening before sending the brackets to The i-Bookie in Salt Lake, I walked over to her on the couch while she was on the laptop. I had already filled out my brackets and it looked like she was making last minute modifications. Our conversation went something like this:
(me walking up to her)
Me: Hey there.
Jenn: Did you know Fraser and Ray are hurt?
Me: Uhhhh…yeah… of… course… I… did (scratching my head).
Jenn: I wonder if they’ll be ready for the tourney.
Me: Well, uhhh, yeah, ummm, do you know where my bracket is??? I have to make sure I put my name on it…(me quickly scurring away).
By the way, she still took Villanova despite the injuries, which would have worked if Florida hadn’t forgotten that they’re supposed to choke in the 2nd round.
As for the picture on the plaque, I am still trying to decide on which one to send. Contrary to Dad’s wishes, it will not be a picture of me kissing Jenn’s bicep. We’ll save that one for never. I will, however, send out a picture pretty soon—I have an appointment at the Salon next week and a pedicure scheduled for Thursday…
By the way, in case you forgot, All mom’s kids and money go to BYU.
I had been following college basketball a little and now I don’t really know what to do. I don’t want to start reading about Spring football just because I know it will undoubtedly raise hopes and expectations to unrealistic levels. I watched the Utah Jazz play the New Orleans Hornets last night, which the Jazz ended up winning. Unfortunately they’re still 2 games out of a playoff spot. They’ve had more chances than Daryl Strawberry to get that 8th playoff spot, but they have choked when it has mattered most. Sometimes it seems like they just stand around there, looking like Trevor folding clothes while watching TV. Oh well.
I heard the funniest thing toward the end of the game. New Orleans was losing pretty badly and “O-tag” was still on the sidelines. I think it was Boller who said something to the affect that, “it looks like Ostertag has accepted his role on the bench, to come in as a role player.” How could he not accept this—He’s getting paid $4.4 million this year to (1) average 14.1 minutes per game ($312K/minute) and (2) root for his team. And mom, don’t worry, I like the “Tag”, I just thought it was funny what they said.
And no, I am not a spurs fan: They are boring, they have Bruce Bowen and Eva Longoria is the center of every sports story here. It wears on you…
Well, the original bracket will now go into a very safe place. In fact, I’ll probably put it in the safe right between my 1991 Donruss Harold Baines error card now worth approximately 18 cents and my 1938 Wheat penny. Ahhh, the amount of wealth I have acquired over the years. At this rate, the Harold Baines rookie card should be worth about 3 ½ cents by the time I retire and cash it in. But alas, the bracket and its victory shall never diminish.
Which reminds me, I had better go so I can update my résumé.
With that said, onto the main event:
It was great to receive that email from The iBookie with the news that I outlasted all the worthy competition—and worthy you were. For those that weren’t there (which would be everyone but Jenn), I got so excited that I almost started doing the Mexican Hat Dance. No offense Mayka. I did feel the need to restrain somewhat, as I do live with the former title holder, and her feelings were to be respected. She must now call me Captain Madness…okay, that was dumb.
Anyway, just because everyone at work looks at me differently after I told them about the money, picture and plaque on the wall, doesn’t mean anything (except that they're jealous). In fact, in the spirit of full disclosure, I feel that I have finally reached nirvana, that state of complete fulfillment, of wanting absolutely nothing. (That is of course until Playstation 3 comes out late November). I bet I speak for many of the family members when I say that I couldn’t care less about the money. I’m just excited to see my name on that plaque. Of course, I will still accept the money with open arms, or wallet as it were. In fact, has it been sent yet? Was it sent Priority? Is it cash or check? Just kidding…(no, but seriously).
Of course, this year I think the plaque should go right on the wall in front of the entry way. Not necessarily so visitors can see that I won (which I did)—but more so to show our family traditions, closeness, etc. Which reminds me: Mom, do you remember when you told me in Brawley (or Delano) that I was better than Nick at some things? I tried to tell Nick and he would just laugh at me with his too-cool 90’s montage jacket that he got for Christmas. Well, seeing as how Nick has barely escaped the cellar dwellers (aka Sam, Riley, Aiden, Oliver) the last couple of years, I think I found that some thing. Wow, the tournament’s not even over yet and the trash-talking has already begun. This must be how Gary Payton of the early 90’s felt, except that he never won a championship.
I know that all you conspiracy theorists are secretly weighing in on my victory. Let me clear up a few things:
No, Jenn did not fill out my bracket. I understand that you might be thinking that I agreed to pay her for her consulting services, but alas, the whole bracket was mine… MINE, I TELL YOU!!! MmmwwwaaaahahaHaHaHAHAHAAAA! (uhhh, okay...).
In fact, I think Jenn’s fall from the top came about due to her extensive research. In the past, it’s gone down pretty much the same each year: 1. Jenn gets her bracket 2. She keeps me up till 2 in the morning the night before (voluntarily, of course :). 3. And finally she fills it out after asking me questions I pretend to know the answers to. This year was a bit different. In fact, the evening before sending the brackets to The i-Bookie in Salt Lake, I walked over to her on the couch while she was on the laptop. I had already filled out my brackets and it looked like she was making last minute modifications. Our conversation went something like this:
(me walking up to her)
Me: Hey there.
Jenn: Did you know Fraser and Ray are hurt?
Me: Uhhhh…yeah… of… course… I… did (scratching my head).
Jenn: I wonder if they’ll be ready for the tourney.
Me: Well, uhhh, yeah, ummm, do you know where my bracket is??? I have to make sure I put my name on it…(me quickly scurring away).
By the way, she still took Villanova despite the injuries, which would have worked if Florida hadn’t forgotten that they’re supposed to choke in the 2nd round.
As for the picture on the plaque, I am still trying to decide on which one to send. Contrary to Dad’s wishes, it will not be a picture of me kissing Jenn’s bicep. We’ll save that one for never. I will, however, send out a picture pretty soon—I have an appointment at the Salon next week and a pedicure scheduled for Thursday…
By the way, in case you forgot, All mom’s kids and money go to BYU.
I had been following college basketball a little and now I don’t really know what to do. I don’t want to start reading about Spring football just because I know it will undoubtedly raise hopes and expectations to unrealistic levels. I watched the Utah Jazz play the New Orleans Hornets last night, which the Jazz ended up winning. Unfortunately they’re still 2 games out of a playoff spot. They’ve had more chances than Daryl Strawberry to get that 8th playoff spot, but they have choked when it has mattered most. Sometimes it seems like they just stand around there, looking like Trevor folding clothes while watching TV. Oh well.
I heard the funniest thing toward the end of the game. New Orleans was losing pretty badly and “O-tag” was still on the sidelines. I think it was Boller who said something to the affect that, “it looks like Ostertag has accepted his role on the bench, to come in as a role player.” How could he not accept this—He’s getting paid $4.4 million this year to (1) average 14.1 minutes per game ($312K/minute) and (2) root for his team. And mom, don’t worry, I like the “Tag”, I just thought it was funny what they said.
And no, I am not a spurs fan: They are boring, they have Bruce Bowen and Eva Longoria is the center of every sports story here. It wears on you…
Well, the original bracket will now go into a very safe place. In fact, I’ll probably put it in the safe right between my 1991 Donruss Harold Baines error card now worth approximately 18 cents and my 1938 Wheat penny. Ahhh, the amount of wealth I have acquired over the years. At this rate, the Harold Baines rookie card should be worth about 3 ½ cents by the time I retire and cash it in. But alas, the bracket and its victory shall never diminish.
Which reminds me, I had better go so I can update my résumé.
4 comments:
Are you referring to the Jimmy'Z jacket that could double as a camo tent were it not for the flourescent images of 50's memorabilia?
Anyway, I never said you weren't better at me than anything. I readily admitted that you were better at having darker hair than I was or being younger than I was. Also, you did have the "power of ten tigers." Next year I will have to come up with a better algorithm. Perhaps something involving game theory and diffeomorphisms.
I must put in my 4 cents worth and say what a great tournament it has been. Dad can tell you that I poured over the brackets every chance I got to make sure I hadn't made any mistakes. Alas, I had. And thanks to Chad and Jenn notifying me, she was docked two points, thus, putting the winners in the right spot. I had made an excel sheet and winners were pink and losers were green. It's hard to believe that no one will be running home from Gen. Priesthood Meeting to see the score of the semi-finals. And I really don't care to watch the Finals on Monday. I can now watch "24" and "Prison Break" with no compunction.
As far as Rag Tag goes, He certainly was a disappointment to me this year. And I wish that "desperate housewife" Eva Long obnoxious oria would just disappear. I would think Tony Parker would not want her on the bench or anywhere else.
But anyhoo, congratulations to all the winners, especially the plague man. I will have to think about the entryway. Somehow, I don't think Dad will go along with that. Plus it wouldn't be fair to Jenn when we kept her picture and name downstairs for 3 years. But I could be bribed.
The money will be going out in the next couple of days.
P.S. I concur about the gas. It's a wonder the plane got off the ground. And I'm not talking about me.
Dad bought me a ipod car thingy that I can hook up and we can listen to all the songs on the ipod. Now all my CDs are obsolete. Things are moving way too fast.
MOM
Hey Mom, who's the "plague man"? Did the San Antonio water give Chad the "BU"bonic plague?
Just keeping you on your toes. Obviously, that was done on purpose.
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