25%

The NYTimes says that 4 of its 3 million brackets have the Final Four correct. That's amazing. It warms my heart. Why? Because all of the gaseous blabbering emitted on ESPN and talk radio and that moderately annoying fellow in Sales who is convinced he knows more than you about sports was proven, yet again, to be void. Empty. Worthless.

Guys like Herbstreet and his cohort are the con artists of the 2000s and our sports-crazy society. I don't know when they'll go away, but hopefully sooner rather than later, when all of the data finally gets easier to sort and we can simply pick for ourselves.

I still love UNC

Oh, the excitement continues.

First of all, I've noticed a general downturn in the amount of attention given to politics, George W. Bush, Iraq, and the State Of The World. Perhaps this is only because I live in a baseball bubble where entirely too much attention is given to what Nick Green's role on the team is going to be this year. If I had $1 for every time I read about or talked about or heard about Julio Lugo's trade potential during this offseason, I could probably buy, say, a nice pair of shoes. Anyway, is there nothing going on in Washington? Or am I just not paying attention? Scooter Libby, Jack Abramoff, 3-year anniversary, $9 trillion debt, no Osama, blowing up innocent people in Pakistan, Rumsfeld acting like he has no idea what's going on. I think I sorta am following the state of the country.

I wish I had worked in Congress for a summer. The intern thing. Now that I've found a real career path, I want to have all kinds of internships knowing that I have no future in any of them. But I'd enjoy the backstabbing, the drama, all of the wannabees trying to Get Ahead. It'd be so funny. Then I'd go to PollyEsther's every other weekend or so.

Speaking of PollyEsther's, we've really got to make St. Pete/Tampa a more fun place. This will involve creating a club on the same sort of note as PollyEsther's. If anyone who reads this blog (the 5 of you) wants to start a Fun Nightclub empire, please contact me.

Okay, second of all, the commentators on just about every March Madness game need some Red Bull. Other than Northwestern State's 3-point win, these guys sound like they're very bored versions of Mike Tirico. It's Madness! If Georgetown is destroying Ohio State, make sure everyone knows this. Somehow, I am totally working Georgetown into my wardrobe tomorrow. While watching the game today, I was reminded of how, while working there, I was asked to downplay the fact that Allen Iverson was a Hoya. Frankly, the fact that Mike Sweetney went there is, at the moment, more embarassing. Did anyone see the Bulls' green jerseys on Saturday?

Third of all, I am listening to Hootie and the Blowfish right now. Let's fix that.

Ah, some Zeppelin. All My Love is a Top 30er.

Fourth, I would like to congratulate Ms. Karbo for getting into Harvard Law. I actually heard it's pretty easy. Unlike that Michigan place. Why are all my friends turning into lawyers? Oh right: So my mom will have somebody to...I don't know. But she seems to enjoy the fact that Chris is a lawyer. I explained how if she ever wanted to take over GM, he might be able to help, but that didn't really seem to register. I think I only have about three friends who are lawyers. Or future lawyers. Many others are in various med schools. On the other hand, I totally run scoreboards. I will also not be buying the group's boat.

Fifth, I'm curious if V For Vendetta was any good. I don't really like the HowDoYouSpellWachowskiBrothers, because, if nothing else, they totally ripped off Dark City for their stupid Matrix, which, if nothing else, involved Keanu Reeves, and really the only way you can do worse in a movie is by including Matthew Broderick or Paul Walker as your lead. I'd include Matthew McCougheney in this list as well, but I happen to own Contact, which isn't even that great a movie. By the way: The next person who says "Ferris Bueller" after I reveal I dislike Broderick with the burning passion of 1000 neutron stars (this phrase is more fun to say than write) will get water dumped on his or her head.

Okay, neutron stars. I googled it, and the first entry is a professor's page, and he inexplicably starts it with a photo of Mickey The Sorcerer's Apprentice. Amazing.

I'm toying with taking my site offline, or at least moving it. I'm slightly concerned that my existence as a lowly-but-still-real employee of the TBDR might conflict with various photo albums. Speaking of which: Now here's what I'm going to wonder for a while...I emailed Dr. Lawren*ce some months ago asking if he had anyone who might want a sweet intersnhip down here in Florida. I received no response. And I wonder if this has anything to do with me slurring him on the Infamous Night At PollyEsther's story. It wasn't even any sort of serious slur.

These are the kinds of things you can wonder about in America. I love it.

Poor Heels. GO HOYAS.

Hot with two T's

DOA, Foo Fighters, hott.

Carolina, 3 seed, hott.

Georgetown, to the Final Four, hott.

That's it. I don't want to overuse the double-t action.

A Tribute To Living Single

In honor of a certain Paquet girl arriving to stay tomorrow, I believe my 42 months of bachelorhood need a semi-proper send-off that does not involve the "Vegas Showgirls" place on Gandy. So, here's to:

Machnacki and I playing tennis, cooking steaks, and watching the Yankees lose to the Angels on afternoon baseball on a sunny Saturday in Arlington.

My couch. It has cuddled me for so many nights.

Playing Metroid Prime for 20 straight hours.

Listening to We Didn't Start The Fire as loud as possible without Indiana upstairs hating me.

Teri Hatcher and Gillian Anderson desktop wallpaper.

Those three insanely sweet days last March involving KO on IM, lots of O.A.R., some alcohol, cosmic brownies, and staying up past 4am. They just made me shiver with pleasure.

Eating frozen pizzas, frozen chicken tenders, hot dogs, tater tots and steaks.

Never, ever, ever changing the sheets. Or making the bed.

Self-created fraternity rituals. Not really.

24 and The Daily Show with no interruptions.

My own closet. My own bathroom.

All those crushes I never acted on. I'm looking at you, Brian D*Wine.

And now I have to take down the 8 Lindsay Lohan posters. So it goes.

Let's get the living in sin on!

Florida on the brain

Life is excellent. March in Florida is so insanely beautiful...warm sunny days and pleasant cool nights...the kind that are perfect for driving around, jamming to, perhaps, the All-American Rejects' Dirty Little Secret, which after 1,854 or so listens still doesn't sound old. The Book Of Evil (media guide) that was nothing but a night/weekend/life sapper is done, so now I can focus on getting ready for the season, which I celebrated yesterday by enjoying a hott spring training game downtown. Chris and Jen visiting was a nice happy boost, seeing Mariah was sweet, and the 'rents are coming...and of course, so is Holly. Let the living in sin begin! Being with her for more than five days at a time will be the greatest treat ever. Wedding plans are still going swimmingly, the Pistons are still winning, and the Rays still look like they might be decent. I have enjoyed the production values of Entourage, the writings of Jonathan Franzen, and the lovely Kiefer and his quest to stop the terrorists on 24. And of course, I couldn't be excellent if everyone else wasn't, but Jen loves her job, Lauren passed her boards, Kari has a lovely daughter, Steve is kicking up dust in Atlanta, Mike and Cara are getting married, Colleen keeps running, and Andrew and Mariah are moving to Madison.

Oh yes, last thing: the Tarheels beat Duke last night. :)

CB update

Oooooooh, poor Duke. A loss to the great Florida State, to be followed by a loss to North Carolina tonight. Heels rule.

Alma finished the season 10-16. So it goes.

All-American Reject

First off, the dirty little ditty Dirty Little Secret is my new favorite pop turn-on since Speed Of Sound. It's fun and rolls right along with you driving down 275 or whatever sweet freeway you're near. For my loyal readers: have a download.

While we're having fun: The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny. Thanks to Holly and her brother for this amusement; I've only run into one person who hasn't liked it, but she's sadly far outnumbered by the people who think Abraham Lincoln pole-vaulting is really funny.

Other cool stuff: Entourage. Chris finally convinced me to watch the thing, and we rolled through all 8 episodes alongside Jen. Part of the appeal (for me, anyway) is how each character is kind of a tool, but each has at least one redeeming quality. It's almost Dawson's Creek, in L.A., with no girl leads, cussing, and straight-up coolness. The question becomes: Is Jeremy Piven really that sweet?

We finished the Media Guide last night. Eric/Jason/Me, 'til 7.45 am, meaning I spent approximately 25 straight hours at Tropicana Field (discounting the trip to the airport and the Subway run). Talk about a day well spent. This will be the best media guide in the universe. And I would say that sort of marathon makes up for all of who think those days in California were spent slacking.

Finally, I don't think it's okay to call Chicago "Chi-Town" unless you live there. Is anyone with me on this one?