7:58 p.m.: Another day and another running diary. I have not been killed, yet. In actuality I am on the run right now. I am hiding in a smoky bookstore somewhere near Charlotte, NC. I have been awake for thirty hours straight and living on stale M&M's and LSD. Things seem quite blurry. I have lost my Russian mob bracket pool already and I am running from the killer from No Country For Old Men. I fire up the laptop and find that UConn is now out of the tournament. This is definitely cause for celebration now that my brackets are absolute grease fires. I loath UConn just because they are UConn. I have hated both their women's coach (who looks like either a pornographer or a mob captain I am not sure which) and their men's coach (looks too much like Tom Coughlin) for simply being whiny sniveling arrogant cry babies. I watched Coach Calhoun's presser after losing to San Diego who came in as a #13 seed. Coach whined the whole presser complaining about everything that happened to his team. He never ever took any responsibility for the fact that he did not prepare his team properly to play the first round game. He complained that his players weren't "excited" enough to play against San Diego. Are you kidding? Your players weren't excited enough to play in the tournament where they had a fighters chance of winning the title? They weren't "up" for the game in THE tournament that they worked so hard for since October? Did they quit on the coach? Whose fault is that they weren't "excited" enough to play? Who? THE coach! That's who. It is his job to make sure that his players are motivated even if it's a measly first rounder against a #13 seed. Didn't the fact that they lost to an inferior George Mason squad two years ago when they should have won the title teach Calhoun anything? Didn't it teach him that double digit teams can snap at you like a gator looking for a 2000lb. cow? I guess not since his team just "didn't feel like playing" or simply had a "headache."
8:11 p.m.: Also fun is the fact the in the same region as San Diego the 12-seed, Western Kentucky, beat Drake that was a sleeper pick for the Sweet 16 or Elite 8 in some peoples brackets. So either a 12 seed or a 13 seed will make it to the Sweet 16 after they play one another on Sunday. I guess that is why we love the NCAA tournament.
8:14 p.m.: Because we live in Virginia (oops, North Carolina) now we get the joy of watching UNC play Mount St. Marys. What a waste of time. I might start drinking now as opposed to later even though I need to be alert for the killer Ivans that are after me. I have not mentioned yet my utter dislike for Tyler Hansbrough. I remember the moment where I started to dislike him. It was the game where he got his nose busted up against Duke. He gets his nose all bloody and in what appears to be a complete delayed reaction he starts acting like he's going to be bad and start a fight. Except he isn't "bad" and he isn't going start a fight with anyone on the opposing team. He might fight, like maybe, the mascot. He tried to look like some sort of tough guy when he looked like a big tall chump. I wanted to yell to him: "Just stop. You're not going to hurt anyone. Just settle down, sport. Stay down. " The other thing I dislike is that he is a big flopper. He flops all the time. Someone just breezes by him and he takes a dive. He should play European soccer where that sort of thing is expected.
8:22 p.m.: I have decided that one of my top "Relationship Rules" is this one: "Hook Up With Someone Who Has The Same Level Of Intelligence As You." There is almost no way a relationship is going to work out in the long run if both parties can't have a level conversation with one another. A level conversation can not happen if one person is significantly smarter than the other one. An intelligent person absolutely needs to have their partner be able to hang with them mentally step for step throughout a conversation. It is extremely frustrating for an extremely intelligent person to be involved with someone who can't hang with them intellectually because the conversations they have are not stimulating enough for them. For the other party it is frustrating because they can't understand conversations with their partner where they don't understand or conceptualize what the other person is talking about. After some time, this frustration gets old and the people involved start talking to other people. Then eventually the whole thing slides into the abyss and someone ends up in a hotel room with a hooker who also belongs to Mensa.
8:30 p.m.: UNC is up by 29. What is the point of this game? I just met a coffee shop groupie/hooker who promised me to give me some "free action" if UNC wins by more than thirty. OK, I see the point now.
8:31 p.m.: UNC is up by 25. Ugh!!! I may have to actually pay for.....uh....my coffee.
8:33 p.m.: Speaking of action, last night after I swallowed the entire sheet of LSD under my kitchen table after I starting hiding from the killer dude from No Country...I saw a commercial for Viagra where the men were singing "Viva Viagra!!! Viva Viagra!!!" Uh, this is why I hate ED medication commercials. What happened to the old days when all you saw were commercials for cigarettes and liquor? That was fun.
8:37 p.m.: CBS has switched to Vandy and Siena at the start of the 2nd half. Siena is up by 12. I think I picked this one in a number of brackets. Not because Siena is a great team (they might be) it's because their opponent is Vandy. I fully expect that Vandy, at some point, will choke away a winnable game. It happens to them all the time in football. The same is true in basketball. Choking is in Vandy's DNA. Just like it is in my DNA to drink excessively, write stupid blogs, gamble like a complete degenerate, and chase women I can't ever have a true relationship with. That's it. I am a mess. I should let that killer find me.
8:41 p.m.: UNC is up by 34. Viva Via....Viva...UNC!!!
8:43 p.m.: I wonder where Stanley is. He was right beside me as I made my escape from my burning house with my LSD. I don't know what happened. He just disappeared. I am becoming concerned. He usually tries to keep the groupies away from me so I don't do anything crazy. By the way, UNC is up by 40 and the "groupie" is telling me that she will be the cat to my milk. I wonder what that means. I don't get these things. What does our "arrangement" have to do with a cat anyways?
8:49 p.m.: The coach from Vanderbilt just got a technical foul. That's great. The choking of the team continues as they are still down by 12 with 12:20 to go in the game.
8:54 p.m.: I still don't know where my family is located. They were somewhere in Florida and now they have simply vanished. I can't reach them. Their number is disconnected. No listing. I guess they must be in Siberia now. UNC is up by 41. I guess this cat thing is going to happen after all. I hate commercials. Even commercials for cars, hotels, pet stores, and pork chops. CBS now has switched to Oklahoma and St. Joe's. Oklahoma is up by 7 with 5:25 left. Based on my dislike for the Big 12 I am pulling for St. Joe's. I also like cheering for any school named after a saint. I mean, this time of year? It's perfect since it's Easter and all. By the way, can someone tell me how on Earth we ended up celebrating Jesus rising from the dead to a big giant bunny rabbit? I must not be the only one on LSD.
9:01 p.m.: I think an Easter Bunny just arrived in this coffee shop. It is looking around the smoky room. It is talking to the customers and they seem perplexed and they are pointing fingers. It seems to be thanking them as it is handing out eggs. Something does not seem right here.
9:02 p.m.: UNC is still up by over 40. Things appear to be looking up. Ooops. Probably a bad choice of words. That bunny seems a little weird to me. Where the hell is Stanley anyways?
9:13 p.m.: The Bunny is watching me from across the crowded smoky room. The moon is full in the night sky. The stars are blocked by the street lights as the people drown their sorrows in espresso beans. And UNC has won by 39. The groupie slides herself like a shard of broken glass next to me. She whispers in my ear. A napkin falls on the floor. A cup breaks. The Bunny stands up with all the commotion. It sizes up the scene. It walks towards my table. There seems like a bulge in it's side. Journey is playing in the background. A grunge head walks through the door. Obama sips his iced coffee. The Bunny reaches.....
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