Monday's 3rd ranked Misery

With apologies to any children as well as my mother, I'm really pissed. This might get ugly. If it gets too ugly...change your tampon Alice. It's hate week.

The 1970s called...
For those of you unaware, I'm trapped in a 1970s time trap set by the in-laws. Previous trips have both allowed me to watch ESPN and surf interwebs. This time however I find myself locked out of the wifi and subjected to a Dish Network that only includes local channels and the DIY channel.

F. Me.

That's just swell. It's not like there's any damn thing going on that I might want to read/blog/post about. I'm sure Collin Klein wetting his jock strap was just a dream the other night and The Walking Dead was preempted by some dumbass music award show.

But don't count me out of it yet Reader. I've got this "phone" that has cellular service (barely) and a 2011 Masters cup just begging for all the bourbon in the bastard's cupboard.




I win.

There's no BCS in H-A-T-E
Some of you people make me goddamn sick. With your scenarios and your wishful thoughts. Blabbering on and on about what could be and strength of schedule and computer modulations...Slow down dipshits. You act like we've never been here.

Remember 2007? With all the hype and the pats on the back? The media attention and Herbstreit being a douche? Only to be left cold because we hadn't played for our conference crown.

Yeh, slow you damn roll bitches. Long way to go and it starts with an algorithm from North Ave., not one in Miami.

So you with the BCS ranking printout, get some focus. And yes you...the one in the corner with the picture of the Waterford crystal football and the hand lotion. Stop self-"aggrandizing" and grab hold of this thought...number 3 don't get shit handed to them.

It must be earned.

And that starts on Saturday 'tween the hedges. Be there. Bark your mother effin' head off. Then we'll talk about anything we may or may not have earned the right to play for the following weekend. Because right now...Governor's Cup > Miami hotels. Put one foot before the other.

Now, if you'll excuse me I think I'll go find a Starbuck$ so I can check my email.

Bastard.