…will not cure what ails you, as it turns out. I haven’t written in a few days, mostly because I haven’t felt the urge to do anything but sit in my chair, be sick, and gripe about being sick. For the record, I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. On the bright side, Ross and I downloaded Bubble Bobble onto my Xbox and beat it. So I got that going for me, which is nice.
Let me be clear: we downloaded the actual game Bubble Bobble and beat it. Not the one I mentioned the other day. That would be what we call “awkward.”
There are a scant few things in life that make me happier than the Patriots losing. However, the Patriots losing to the Colts and the Celtics losing to the Pacers? Color me elated. The arrogance of New England fans is personified perfectly by Bill Belichick and his fourth-and-too-bad call last night. What a jackass. I know he was trying to win the game, and that first down would have all-but sealed the victory, but to have that little faith in your defense? Really?
Suffice it to say that despite my respiratory issues that I’m currently having, I was still yelling at the top of my lungs last night at the telly. The roommate, being the biggest all-things-Indiana hater on the face of the planet, was so damn smug for the first 55:52 of that game, which naturally culminated in the loudest “SUCK MY BALLS, ROSS!” heard in the Portland-metro area that night once the game finally ended.
But then again, no matter if it was 30 yards or 60 yards, Peyton would have driven right down the damn field either way. So it’s really a moot point. A 35-34 moot point.
I shaved yesterday, and started laying the foundation for my beard to come back. I cannot wait for December 1st so I can get rid of this damn thing. My mom called Saturday and asked me for someone to “take a nice picture of me this time.” Small problem: how, exactly, does one go about having a nice photo of them taken with the ugliest mustache on the planet? Small solution: you don’t. So here’s me in yet another ugly photograph. Enjoy.
Also, it’s time for a Bon Jovi interlude: WHOOOOOOAAAAA-OH! We’re halfway there! OOOOHHHHH-OH! Livin’ on a prayyyyeerrrr. Get it? Because it’s the sixteenth, and I’m (over) halfway there?