Quick Thoughts: I Am A Dumbass
What I'm thinking about today (other than trying to remember what exactly I did to Daunte Culpepper to make him throw five interceptions and ruin my fantasy football team. Yes, I'm pretty sure he sucked just to spite me.)
Hot word of the week: Blog.
Best if used incorrectly and in a complete and totally inappropriate manner (ie. "We blogged like rabbits," or "I blogged in her ear," or "She blogged the blog out of that blogging donkey.")
Coldplay show last Saturday was, as expected, "G-rrrrrrr-eat!" Two quick thoughts from it:
- To the teenagers behind me: Yes, it's cool that you know all of the words to Clocks. I am impressed. Now shut up.
- To the 40 year old in front of me: A) Nice Rush T-Shirt. B) Thanks for turning around and asking me "you mind if I burn another?" before lighting up your second joint in five minutes. By politely asking me before you sparked up again, you proved that you are classy and well mannered. Also, your pot smelled like a strange mixture of brocolli and feet. Not good. Finally, how do you know I'm not a cop? It wasn't a fucking Grateful Dead show. How about the next time you ask me if I mind you smoking some of your horrible marijuana, I ask if it's alright if I do some lines of coke and blog your wife? Is that appropriate in public, too? No. No, it's not.
Cardinals playoff tickets went on sale this morning. Unlike last year, you weren't able to get them at Busch Stadium. Instead, you had to try your luck getting through on the phone or via the Internet. I went the Internet route.
I was lucky enough to make it through the virtual waiting room and was ready to purchase two tickets to game one of the NLCS. However, I pressed the "Request Different Seats" button instead of the "Continue" button.
That was the wrong button. There were no other seats to request.
So back to the virtual waiting room I went.
20 minutes later, all playoff games were sold out and I didn't get a single ticket.
In conclusion, I am a dumbass.
Happy three year annivesary to one of the saddest chapters (also, one of my favorite chapters) in sports history: Kansas City Royal's coach Tom Gamboa being attacked by the South Side of Chicago's finest, the shirtless Mr. William Ligue and his son during a game in Chicago.
"He got what he deserved," the elder Ligue said.
Sure he did, buddy. Sure he did.
Really weird Google referral of the week: fuck what did roberto alomar do to contribute the north american.
No comment on that one.