There Has To Be a Morning After

So, I called Iona correctly. But that was about it. Seriously.

My bracket has been a BUST, and the embarrassment is compounded
by the fact that my Nigerian friend at work who doesn't "understand
basketball" is kicking my ass in, like, 7 different ways (not to mention about
5 different indigenous languages).

But all that doesn't matter, as KC and I have procured tickets to the
Philadelphia
games today, which includes my lawlma mater, Villanova. So, that
means if you want to see a number one seed lose to a sixteen seed for
the first time in tournament history, tune in today. Where I go,
trouble follows.

The only people more upset about my bracket than I was apparently were
the gays of Philadelphia. Walking home from work last night, I saw 3
gays leaning against the outside wall of 2 different bars, crying.
Listen boys, I picked Seton Hall for the sweet sixteen, and you didn't
see me crying, did you?

Pull it together.