Exactly 1 year and 30 days ago.....

1 year and 30 days ago, I wrote my last blog entry on here....not coincidentally, this also happened to coincide with me finally opening a Facebook account. Soooo, to make a long story short (which is often difficult for me, but not so bad right now because I've been taking my ADD medication and it sure is helping out with my focus and..... oooohhh that cartoon bear on this toilet paper commercial looks like a cool dude. I be blind people go through a lot of toilet paper, because they have to overwipe since they can't see to check if they're good to go.....wait a minute.... what was I talking about? Am I still writing this in parenthesis? Is anyone listening?).....ok, so like I was originally saying, since opening my Facebook account, I have spent the past 13 months clogging my friend's pages with irrelevant babbling and in the process, forgot about this blog thing. Well, today that ends, because I'm putting my big wooden blogging spoon back into the garlic mashed potatoes...god I love mashed potatoes. I like just swirling my steak and biscuit and vegetables all together with my potatoes too.....Jesus, I have as much focus as Lil Wayne has words in his vocabulary that can actually be found in a real dictionary. In no particular order, here are ten things that have occurred/I've noticed in the past 13 month break from the blog....

1.) I separated from my wife after a record breaking 10 month marriage. Also, just like my birthday is one day after my musical idol Benjamin Chase Harper, he too filed for divorce with his wife....which also occurred one day before my wife moved out. I don't care if you think it is weird that I think that is cool. Besides, I asked ChaCha and they said it was cool too.
2.) The greatest canine to walk the earth, my dog Marley, has had two more birthdays in the past 13 months. He just turned 9 on July 9th. Shit, I just realized that was his golden birthday. He turned 9 on the 9th. Really should've taken him to Vegas. No wonder he thought the stuffed duck and a cookie was kind of lame.
3.) Through a series of unforseen events, I have discovered that my favorite place in the world is no longer St. John's Bay in the Virgin Islands....Nope, it is Corry, Pennsylvania.
4.) I took the dusty guitar out of the closet and began playing again. Most of the songs I've written involve typical subject matter found at a 3rd grade lunch table....I'll post some of the songs later.
5.) I've taken several trips to some odd places that i'd have never done if it wasnt for my midlife crisis at age 28....Actually, all of the following places I have been to have been in the last 8 months: Chicago 4 times, Wrigley Field for opening weekend, Erie, PA, Corry, PA, Pittsburgh, PA, Palm Springs, CA, Bills-Steelers game in Buffalo, Searched by Border Patrol entering and leaving Niagra Falls, Canada, Clearwater Beach, FL, Myrtle Beach, SC, Peek n' Peak Ski Resort in Clymer, NY, Cleveland, OH, Columbus, OH, Phish concert in Cuyahoga Falls, OH, Nashville, IN, and Louisville, KY.
6. My beloved Colts lost in the Super Bowl to the Saints. With the Colts having complete control of the game, Saints' coach Sean Payton grew a massive pair of bull testicles and turned the game around with a successful onsides kick to start the second half.
7. The best book I've read in the past 13 months was "The Rum Diaries"....just another Hunter S. Thompson endeavor.
8. I finally gave in and bought underwear that fit. I've got a small waist that requires a medium, but I'd always bought large because I thought mediums were a knock upside my wiener's confidence and self-worth, however a nice lady revealed to me that the "baggage area" is still the same, and I'm much more comfortable now in my medium undies, not to mention the DWC (Daily Wedgie Count) has plummeted as a result.
9. I finally admitted that I like ducks more than I like goats.
10. Set a new personal record for awkward moments in a 6 month period. I'll get to those awkward stories in due time.

"Retarded Sex"

"Dude. Cops at Drive Thru?"

So I heard on the radio this morning on the way to work that police in Arizona have begun posing as fast food restaurant employees at 24-hour restaurants. Their goal is to catch wasted souls pursuing the slider golden treasure or whatever their late night munchies may be. One cop dresses and acts as an employee working the drive-thru, while a normal cop waits outside in the parking lot for the arrest. On one hand, I am perfectly fine with deterring drunken drivers from the roads, but on the other hand I can't imagine how many innocent hippies (regardless of how much they stink like burning incense and unshaven feminine armpits), influenced by herbal remedies, will be harrassed.

"Why Can't Papa Johns Come To My House?"

Has anyone seen the latest commercial from Papa John's where Papa John just shows up randomly at somebody's house with a shitload of pizzas? I still can't figure out how he happened to "randomly" choose the house that also happened to be having some kind of family get-together or birthday party. That got me thinking about how funny it'd be if he really did just randomly pick out a house and show up way too excited with way too many pizzas. Can you imagine if he showed up at some asshole redneck's house or an old senile man without pants? Or better yet, can you imagine how much you'd be cheesing your underwear with excitement if you happened to be sitting on your couch, drunk off your ass, at 2 in the morning and suddenly Papa John showed up at your door with a bunch of people carrying pizzas?

I bet that is what it feels like to win the lottery.

"A Strange Conversation With An Older Lady"

I have a student loan through Nelnet and every damn time I go online to make my monthly payment, I am always getting my passwords mixed up or my username. When I change my password back to something i'll remember they wont let you use a previous username or password, so i am forced to change it to something new. Last time, for no apparent reason, I decided to change my username to MrButtface and PoopRules as my password.

To make a long story short, today I misspelled my username or password more than three times, the computer locked me out, and I was forced to call Nelnet to make a payment over the phone. After providing the women with my name and social security number she also asked me to provide my username and password for online verification.

Typing Mr. Butt Face and Poop Rules into your computer is one thing, but saying it out loud without laughing to a customer service lady was totally different.

"Where I Have Been For the Last Two Months"

I truly apologize to all the millions of my fans and readers of this Pulitzer Prize nominated blog for my absence over the past 50 or 60 days while I learned more about having AIDS and recieved treatment. I really appreciate all of the letters of support and gifts of flowers, cards, and balloons. I especially appreciated the Mexican midget stripper blow-up doll that some crazy fan from Iowa sent me. Sadly and shamefully though, I have a confession. I don't have AIDS. In fact, I've never even had an STD and I am so afraid of accidentally procreating a miniature me, that I possibly have Obsessive-Condom-Compulsive-Disorder or OCCD.

The real reason for my long absence from babbling on about unimportant and insensitive ideas and thoughts on the blog is that I have just been lazy. That is it. I've just been a piece of shit for the last couple of months. However, I have quite a bit of shit stuck up in the ol' memory bank to last me for awhile.

To recap the last couple months, here is a list of the top 10 things that occured during my absence.

10.) That crazy, rambling midget that rode that cheap horse to a Kentucky Derby win. I still have no idea what he was saying during the post-race interview, but the race was awesome.

9.) That old bag on America's Got Talent finally got kicked off. Speaking of Susan Boyle, a guy on the radio the other day was asking which would be worse to be forced to have sex with, Susan Boyle or Amy Winehouse? uhhhhh.....yikes. Susan Boyle probably tastes like moth balls and old, sweaty underwear, while Winehouse obviously tastes like a puke-filled ashtray.

8.) We adopted a cow. There was this cow that needed a home because its owner at the farm had died. Even though I live in a normal suburban neighborhood, we at least have a fenced in yard. We have even started letting him come inside occasionally to sleep if it is too hot outside.

O.K. We really didn't adopt a cow, but I still think it would be pretty cool if we did.

7.) The NFL draft and Donald Brown. This little guy is the perfect fit for our Colts. Next year's version of Matt Forte.

6.) I saw this fat guy split his sweatpants wide open at the grocery store bending over for some Mentos at the checkout line. I had to act like I forgot something and left the line, because I could tell everyone was sensing I was a jackass for laughing so hard.

5.) Football became 2 months closer to starting. Just thinking about waking up on that first Sunday of the season and running downstairs to the television like a child on Christmas gives me goosebumps. Or makes me crap my pants with excitement. One of the two.

4.) The planning of my bachelor party in Vegas has begun......Giggity! Giggity! Giggity!

3.) Warm weather has returned and I have a huge, white trash, above-ground pool now in my backyard to prove it.

2.) I saw this dancing cockatoo on YouTube. It was fucking awesome.

1.) I didn't finish the movie "Marley and Me". I got in a few cheap laughs, but cut out as soon as I noticed the movie was taking its inevitable turn for the worst. There is just no reason to voluntarily make yourself depressed by watching some beloved dog kick the bucket.

"Dr. H's Views on Religion" (Dear Church People: Sue Me!)

Before I begin my rant on the problem with religion and society, please remember that these are simply my viewpoints and obviously you all are free to believe in whatever you want.

First of all, I 100% believe that humans evolved from apes. In fact, it almost seems impossible that we didn’t. I mean the world was at one point completely submerged in water and every organism and animal that exists today is a direct result of adaptation. Fish grew legs to adapt to the increasing amounts of land and were forced to do so in order to survive the rapid changes surrounding them. Why would this be any different for us? Most church-goers frown upon the idea of evolution and view those that believe in this theory as atheists. Now although I do not completely buy into the whole happy Bible story version of God, I do believe that some form of a God does exist. Couldn’t God have simply created apes and we have evolved from those original ancestors? Religious advocates argue of course not. Because ever since we were little, we have been told the story of how God created a man and a women that ate a piece of damn fruit from a tree guarded by a talking snake and ended up procreating together and now we have over 6 billion people on this Earth. Sorry, but I am not buying it. For those of you that do, let me guess, you also believe that some guy named Noah built a boat large enough to hold two of every animal on Earth and managed to not only get all of these animals onto the boat at the same time, but successfully kept them afloat without the tigers trying to kill the gazzelles or the snakes trying to eat the rats? Yeh, and I still have a shot at becoming a major league baseball player and marrying Eva Longoria.

I actually think the Bible is a collection of great stories to live by, but hardly a collection of factual evidence and true events. The basic philosophies of living as a good person and doing the right thing is true, but the stories are mostly just that. Stories. Remember playing the game “telephone” when you were a kid in kindergarten and by the time the sentence got to the last kid in the class, “the dog went to the grocery store to buy eggs” became “The cat went to the movies to collect eggs”? Well, if these stories in the Bible are factual and an exact reenactment of true historical events, then I have a hard time believing that thousands of years later nothing has been exaggerated or embellished with time. Just like how every grandparent had to walk 5 miles uphill, both ways, to school every day or how every ex-athlete remembers himself as twice the high school all-star as he actually was. I think most of the messages in the Bible are great and serve as some pretty good rules to live by, but it is hardly a collection of factual stories.

My next point about religion is that people have always naturally wanted to have something to believe in. It makes them feel more secure and comfortable and gives them a sense of purpose in their life. Since the beginning of time, humans wanted to have reasons for all of the world’s natural mysteries and began creating Gods for about every natural phenomenon. The Sun God, Water God, etc., etc. Eventually, the various development of societies all around the world began forming their own hypothesis of how religion works and several forms of religion were established and developed. Now a days, with all of the hate, war, and argument about religion, I have a hard time believing that only ONE of these religions is correct and that the rest of them have just been wasting their time. The truth is that nobody really knows for sure who is right, but whatever or whoever created this amazing Earth is probably somewhere staring down at us, just ashamed of what we are arguing over. My theory on the whole Jesus and God thing is that I believe in the former and not the latter. Oh no. I said it. I don’t believe in Jesus, but please don’t call me an atheist. I do believe that there is a higher being, an ultimate creator, because there is no way that something as intricate, complex, and amazing as this earth could have started without one. However, I think the stories of Jesus Christ are just that. Stories. Yes, they are nice examples of morals and ethics, but just like the rest of the stories in the Bible, I certainly don’t believe he was as exactly as the Bible tells us. He could have been a great man, but that is where I would leave it.

Lastly, If God is supposed to be so almighty and powerful, so gracious and holy, then why do we think he wants us to gather every Sunday and worship and praise him. If he is so wonderful and divine he most likely doesn’t need anyone telling him how great he is. He created the Earth for God’s sake, so I think he already knows he’s a pretty big deal. It seems to me that he would rather have us go hand out some canned goods to the poor or plant a garden in our community, or do something good for society. He’d rather have us walking along a trail in the park, admiring his work, then crowding into a stuffy church and singing songs about how wonderful he is and collecting money so the church can build a big cross in the lobby or expand the church. My point here is that if the basis of the Bible is to live your life as a humble, helpful, and good citizen and human being, then going out into the world and acting upon that assumption is far better than crowding into a church to sing about how wonderful God is. Maybe I’ll just start my own religion. I’ll call it “Realism” or “Dr. H’s Magical World of Subway Sandwiches in The Park”. One of the two. Anyone that wants to meet me each Sunday in the park to eat sandwiches can be part of my congregation. Trust me. If there is a God, he’ll be much happier for it.

g

Fantasy Baseball's Nerd Avenue: "Steroid Andy Gets No Love"

Andrew Eugene Pettitte.
Born June 15th, 1972 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

The other day, I was scouring the waiver wire in my most competitive fantasy baseball league. With all the crazy waiver wire addicts in this particular league, decent pitching is thinner than Tori Spelling before she got fat again. As I perused over the various wastes of year's pasts, Andy Pettitte's name caught my eye. Although I had actually rode him like a porn star on ecstasy two summers ago to a playoff birth, I was still skeptical. After admitting to using steroids in the past to overcome an injury, most people were pretty leery about drafting a 37 year old man, recently busted for performance enhancing drugs, while coming off his second worst ERA of his career. However, there is still plenty to like here. In fact, I could actually see Mr. Pettitte being a serviceable 4th and strong 5th pitcher, in any fantasy format, the rest of the season.

The steroid allegations and confessions were giant, bright red, "WARNING" lights flashing in our eyes on draft day. However, those troublesome thoughts were put to bed like a drunk sorority chick after Penny Pitchers at Ball State when he reported to training camp in excellent shape and hadn't lost a drop off his velocity. So, just like Hellen Keller actually being blind, I am actually going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that the few times he used steroids were actually to recover faster from injury, and actually wasn't much of a factor of his entire career's statistics. I mean his head never grew to the size of Placido Polanco's like Barry Bonds and I can't recall him ever having sex with a 14 year old country singer.

With that said, he is though coming off his highest ERA since 1999, right?

Well, yes, but he also had arguably the best season of his career in 2000, the year after his highest ERA total of his career. He also won nineteen games that year.

Regardless of age, the man still plays for the unlikeable and old, yet forceful Yankees. As much as I hate the roster from top to bottom, they still can put runs on the board with best of them. Also, maybe it was because of steroids, but he has served as a trusty horse over the majority of his career, taking the mound at least 30 times per season. He has thrown at least 190 innings 11 of the last 13 years and over 200 innings 10 of the last 13. Hell, he is only four years removed from a fucking 2.37 ERA to go along with 17 wins. And yes, he is older, but the tank is far from empty and think about all of the great years Mussina, Randy Johnson, Glavine, and Smoltz managed to put together far after their prime. Pettitte currently ranks 10 among active pitchers in Win/Loss percentage, 8th in wins, and an astonishing 10th in strikeouts. He even has a career WHIP of just over 1.30.

The proof is in the poop, folks.

And by the way, here is how he has fared through his first two starts.

2 starts: 14.1 innings, 9 hits, 10 strikeouts, 4 earned runs, 2 walks. WHIP of 0.77.

Yes, you read that correctly. He's had more strikeouts than hits.

It will definitely feel like sucking Tom Selleck's balls after he runs a marathon to root for the Yankees once every five games, but this is fantasy baseball and I'll be hammered by the 3rd inning.

"Yes, I Am Gullible, But This Is Just Cruel."

So most everybody that knows me is aware of how easily I am drawn into stories and also my history of being a self-proclaimed hypochondriac. My fiancee has enjoyed taking advantage of this aspect of our relationship over the seven years we've been together, but she at least holds herself to only a few times a year. However, the last two weeks have been especially hard.

More like Cruel.

Very Cruel.

The first emotional breakdown occurred on April 1st, which also happens to be the stupidest holiday of the year. April Fool's Day is actually worse than getting pinched all day at work because you refuse to wear green on St. Patty's Day. At least on St. Patty's Day you get to drink green beer after work to wash the memories of the pinches away.

After Returning home from work that evening, I did my usual routine. I picked up the house, walked the dogs, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and flipped on the television. My fiancee works late three days a week as a R.N. in the surgery center. I left around 8:00 p.m. to run to the grocery store and when I returned home, my women was waiting for me with a particularly half creepy/half happily excited look on her face. She is holding something behind her back and tells me she has a surprise. Instantly, as usual, I try to think of the worst scenario I can think of so that whatever it is it will seem that much better than the alternative in my head. After asking if it is a good or bad surprise, she giggles, and hands me a fucking pregnancy test.

She's pregnant.

Holy Shit.

I know I am getting older and will eventually decide to procreate little versions of myself, but now?

Really?

No more late nights drinking beers with hot sauce all over my face or 3 a.m. drunk intercourse?

No more pointless late night drunk Ebay purchases of various sports jerseys, because all of my money will be going to diapers and Pedialite?

No more leaving my car at a friends house because I'm too intoxicated to drive and catching a ride home with someone else and waking up for work the next morning and finding out that your fiancee has already left for work and you need to run the 3 and a half mile journey to your friend's house, hungover, while dry heaving the entire way?

Ohhhh God.

I sat on the couch and tried to sort through the information that I had just been given and soak it all in, when I noticed a peculiar smile on my fiancee's face. Not a "I'm so happy that we're having a baby" face, but a "I can't believe you fucking believed me and I seriously just watched your testicles shrink and am quite sure you pooped your pants" look.

April Fools.

How cruel.

The second emotional disaster occurred earlier this afternoon. On the way home from work, I was sitting at a stop light and sneezed violently. After grabbing a tissue and wiping my nose, I noticed that my nose was bleeding. I hadn't had a bloody nose in a long time and I quickly began flipping out. Although it only lasted for a few seconds, I instantly text my fiancee at the hospital and asked her if I should be concerned. Her response?

"Holy Shit. You definitely need to come in right away. My boss said that we can squeeze you in and we have to run some tests right away. The blood that is clotting between your nose and your brain is possibly clogged and is need of help right away.

Once again, my balls recede into my abdomen and I nearly vomit with worrisome and after Googling "Nose Bleeds Brain Tumors Death" for a few minutes, I tell her that I'm on my way to the hospital and quickly head for the door.

But just like April Fool's Day, I was just another gullible victim. Apparently her coworkers were enjoying my text messages and phone conversations more than American Idol.

Once again, myself gets the best of me.

"My Dog"

This is one of my dogs.

She is neat.

She is big.

She barks sometimes.

She likes walks.

She prefers burritos to chimichangas.

Her favorite country is Ecuador.

Her favorite music group is Hootie and the Blowfish.

Her favorite hobby is stealing the neighbor's mail.

Her favorite curse word is "son of a cunt".

Her favorite song is "Who Let The Dogs Out".

She used to date one of the Baja Men.

She broke up with him when he refused to take her to see Monsters and Aliens in 3-D.

Her name is Madison.

She is neat.

I might be drunk.

"Doc Gooden's Locker Room Gang Bang" Boneless Wings"

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"The Johan Meter"

An Excerpt from last Tuesday's JSA (Johan Santana Annonymous) meeting.

me: "Hello. My name is Dr. H and I am a Johan Santana addict."

room: "Hello. Dr. H."

It all began four years ago in my second year competing in the extremely nerdy game known as fantasy baseball. Although I had only been exposed to fantasy football in previous years, I instantly became hooked to baseball. In our league, you are allowed to keep one batter and one pitcher at the end of each year and ever since I drafted Johan in my inaugural draft, we've been together like Darryl Strawberry and cocaine.

By the same time the next year, I was already sporting a Minnesota Twins Johan jersey wherever I went. And Last year, upon learning of Johan's trade to the Mets, I instantly ordered a new jersey on Ebay (completely shit-faced at 3 in the morning I might add) and was rocking the thing on Opening Day.

Sadly, I actually live vicariously through the Venezuelan arm of this 5'11 1/2'', 198 pound man. If Johan is up on the hill three hours behind in Anahiem and I need to be at work early the next morning, I won't be able to sleep until he is taken out of the game. It is actually kind of pathetic how much my everyday mood is dependent upon Santana's pitching performances. Trust me, it isn't a coincidence that my arguments with my fiance tend to be more frequent during the days following a rough outing. On the other hand, it is sweet marital bliss when Johan is on a nice win streak.

Anyways, after I returned from a recent camping trip, I got ready to shave the scruff that had grown on my face over the weekend. However, for some reason I decided to create a goatee. Ironically, I am seriously OCD about shaving my face and can't even remember the last time I went more than a day without my mug feeling like a baby's ass. (No, I'm not a pedophile. No, I have never touched a baby's ass) Although the thing is hideous and makes me look 10 years older, I am keeping it. You want to know why? Because from now on this patch of pubic hair around my mouth will be known as "The Johan Meter". I will only be shaving this damn thing after a Santana loss, so basically, the longer my goatee is, the better Johan Santana is pitching. However, I actually hope he loses his last start of the season, because I can't imagine how disgusting this thing would be after a 4 month long offseason

Further updates of The Johan Meter will find their way here.

"You Ate My Cheeseburger!"

"Will You Smell My Butt?"

"The Green Semen Shirt"

"The Mysterious Weiner Picture"

Introduction to "Bloobing"

Bloobing (def.) blue-bing (noun): Blogging about boobs.

ex. Jimmy asked his mommy for internet so he could bloob about his sister's large rack.

Boobs. I love them. Every guy loves them. Bill Clinton loves them. Peyton Manning loves them. Maury Povich loves them. Lesbians love them. The point is that it doesn't matter what kind of a guy you are, but as long as you are straight, you probably love boobs.

So I was thinking about boobs today at work and began to wonder what they really are. I mean, basically they are just two large lumps of fatty tissue attached to a woman's chest. Every other time you find a lump on your body you go see your doctor. Is it just the boobs or is it the lady they are attached to. Obviously, a nice set of jugs won't suddenly make Mother Theresa hot, but I'd probably still sneak a peak if she happened to be wearing a loose fitting shirt. The more I think about boobs now the more I wonder what the most appealing aspect of them is. Anyways, they may just be two large growths protruding out of the chest of a lady, but I still love em'. Boobs. Boobs. Boobs.

"Eventually The World Will Be One Giant Walmart Customer's FUPA"

Most people that know me already understand my hatred towards Sam Walton's white trash-food-providing company. However, as I was driving home from work today, I had a revelation. It all started when I watched a documentary on how Walmart ruins small towns' economies by making most grocery and specialty stores lose their business. I can't remember the name of it, but if you are unfortunately a Comcast customer like I am, it is available right now on demand. When a Walmart Supercenter is placed in a small town's economy, most of the businesses within the community (with MUCH smaller budgets and buying power) simply cannot compete with Walmart's system of purchasing cheap supplies in bulk. Customers inevitably begin using Walmart for the sake of saving a little cash and the chance to get all of the things you need in one stop, rather than making multiple errands. However, my theory goes one step farther.

As local businesses lose loyal customers and eventually close, it definitely creates a shortage of jobs in the community. And obviously while the town's economy plummits, families are forced to cut corners in order to survive. Sadly, they end up going to Walmart to save money. So not only does Walmart swipe the town's economy out from under its feet, they also benefit even more when these poor members of society are forced to shamefully walk thru its doors in order to save 20 cents on a bag of potato chips or a dollar on dog food. Sadly, if this Walmart Phenomenon doesn't halt (which it won't) America will eventually become a giant nation of slaves, run by Sam Walton.

I know times are tough, but PLEASE, spend the extra 12 cents on that Digiorno's Pizza (And it's not delivery!) or the 2 dollars on a fishing pole and attempt to support your local grocery stores and businesses. Our nation's "White Trash-Level" depends on it.

March Madness: Saturday March 21, 2009

Just to set the stage.

So it is the first day's coverage of the second round of the greatest sports tournament ever and I can't smudge this glorious happy-asshole smirk off my unshaven, unbathed face. My fiance has decided to spend the day at the gym with her mother and afterwards are planning on going out to eat and to look at "wedding crap".

This house's ass is mine.
So where does that put me?

Well, I'm laying upstairs in my office, doors closed, in the recliner 3 feet from the television, right next to the open window pouring in the first warm breeze of Spiring, resting my ice cold beer on the window sill, while taking occasional looks across the fence next door to watch the creepy old lady mess with her garden and attempt to keep her massive wedgie from literally splitting her butt into two pieces.

Basically, here is a completely useless, non-breaking news, synsposis of how today's activites settled in with the good doctor.

1:48 p.m.
Tyreke Evans is a bad mother something. Lost in the shuffle of D. Rose going to the NBA was a very special player. He almost reminds me of a point guard-oriented Eric Gordon, because of his amazing ability to always get to the basket.

2:03 p.m.
Holy Shit. I swear to god that my mom's boyfriend looks exactly like Arizona's head coach, Russ Pennel. The only difference is that Russ probably doesn't insist on wearing Hawaiin tropical shirts that are two sizes too big all the time.

2:08 p.m.
Villanova just went up 51-32 with 17 minutes left. I was skeptical penciling them in my Final Four, but they are making me feel better and better each trip down the court. Watching the Wildcats play today is alot like watching Cops at 2 in the morning. You can't help but feel that much better about yourself as the show goes on.

2:13 p.m.
That E-Trade commercial with the white and black babies makes me giggle.

2:18 p.m.
So does that damn midget on the Burger King commercials for those miniature burger things. I would actually pay money to hang out with that little guy, but only if he wore that farmer gear everywhere we went. That and he had to say his line about how "he should know, because he's a farmer" line once an hour.

2:29 p.m.
Whhhhooooo. If it was illegal to trap hot and steamy farts in your recliner, I'd be on "Cops".

2:33 p.m. That girl in the Burger Kind miniature burger commercial sounds like she is getting off when that dude unwraps the little burgers. I wish that trick really worked. Suddenly I'd have a use for those Burger King gift certificates my Grandma is always stuffing in my stocking at Christmas. I am not sure who the hell gave her the idea that I love Whoppers so much.

2:40 p.m.
Dude. If that bitch next door bends over one more damn time she's seriously gonna hurt herself.

2:48 p.m. To make this day officially the best day ever, I will be taking a break (i'm sure you are just crushed) to take a trip to the grocery store. I'm going to pick out the biggest, juiciest New York strip I can find. But get this. I already moved the grill on the back deck within reach of the back door of the sun room. This way, I can literally watch the games in the sun room, while reaching my arm out the sliding door and flipping over my steak.

Now supposedly, watching your first child being born is the greatest thing ever, but I now think I have a good idea of what they're talking about. Besides, watching your favorite orphice expand to the size of a grapefruit just doesn't seem that great to me.

6:10 p.m.
Sorry for the delay, but I have felt pregnant for the last two hours. After taking my dogs to the lake to let them swim, I picked up that ridiculously large piece of meat I referred to earlier. Anyways, now things are in full gear. Not only did I go to Comcast and pick up a long enough cable cord to stretch all the way out to my back deck, I have gone a step further and drug my big screen out onto the deck and have created a tent by stapling bed sheets and tying them around posts on the deck. Basically, I am watching these evening games inside a magical tent of bed sheets and Michelob Light. Daylight savings time is good, but if it wasn't for the sun still being high in the sky, I wouldn't have had to go to such extremes in order to watch the television outside without the glare. But then again, I also wouldn't have been sitting in my magical basketball tent.

6:33 p.m.
Purdue is completely dispanting Washington. I'm no Boilermaker fan, but I can't help from pull for the last team left from our fine state.

6:40 p.m.
Who would've guessed. Michigan is only down one at halftime to Oklahoma. Well, besides the annoying "bracket guy" at the bar that has "called" all of the upsets and any game that he is currently watching. Seriously, is there anything worse than "bracket guy"? Now I even think it is acceptable to bring your bracket sheet (ONE only though) to a bar to check your sheet periodically, but if you have two different colored highlighters and leave the sheet out on the bar in front of you, a tool prevention program might be necessary. However, that is coming from a guy that totes his laptop computer with him to the bar to check fantasy sports stats.

7:01 p.m.

I love the commercial for Axe deodorant where the guy has water literally shooting out of his armpits. chuckle. chuckle. chuckle.

7:09 p.m.
My Saint Bernard is currently rolling around in the mulch. She looks so excited and happy. If only I could have that much fun rolling around in mulch. Then again though, I've never tried it. Maybe after another six pack I'll give it a shot.

7:15 p.m.
Washington is playing smellier than the dingleberry I pulled out of my dog's fur this morning.

7:33 p.m.
I am hearing sirens in the near distance. Maybe I should check in on my neighbor. Perhaps her "super wedgie" has finally injured her rectum.

7:42 p.m.
I wonder if Washington's Issah Thomas is a big queer as well.

7:46 p.m.
I am not going to be able to handle seeing many more of the 79, 89, and 99 cent nacho deals without giving into the temptation. However, think about it. Why the hell would you pay 79 cents for a 3 layer nacho when you can get a 7 layer nacho for only 20 cents more. Everyone knows that more is ALWAYS better. Well, except for adolescent acne, crack, and the amount of C-Section scars at a certain podunk strip club in Covington, Kentucky.

8:01 p.m.
That will conclude today's blogging session. The sun is beginning to set, so soon I will be taking down my magical tent of basketball and filling my stomach with ice cold beer and a plethora of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, with the occasional bowl of Fruity Pebbles mixed in.