Friday, March 24

Forget the "March" part, it's just madness

I can't have children. I realized this while watching the BC/Nova game tonight. That's right: The NCAA tournament is the reason I cannot propagate the species. Actually, if you take it on the whole, I can't make babies because of the NCAA tournament (both men's and women's), the WNBA, the Red Sox, and the Patriots. And occasionally, the Celtics. No, sports don't make you sterile, but they do make me curse like a sailor -- actually, I'm pretty sure I could make a sailor blush. (What's worse than a sailor? A trucker? A foul-mouthed, loud, obnoxious sports fan? Yup, that's me. Bygones.) That's not the point. The point is, I'm physically incapable of watching a game without picking a side, and then screaming relentlessly at the coach, the players, and the refs until the game is over. Seriously, the BC game tonight almost killed me. And Jen is one more "Box out, motherfucker!" away from kicking my ass out. And I have no idea how my neighbors feel, but I'm pretty sure they can hear me through our thin-ass Boston walls. Well, fuck 'em, I say. Goddamn Skinner should have put Dudley back in sooner. (Or maybe the refs should get some fucking glasses and some stones and not make that jackass traveling call near the end of regulation -- is it really "traveling" if the other player grabs you and pulls you down?) Either way, maybe we wouldn't have needed overtime. And then we wouldn't have made a stupid play with 3 seconds left. And then we wouldn't have lost. And then I wouldn't be one heartbeat away from an aneurysm.

Tomorrow night's BC game may actually kill me. Which just further insures that I won't fill the earth with sports-loving, f-bomb-dropping children.

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