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The Day After......the Mega Millions

So it is now the day after the Mega Millions drawing and you once again did not win. An 89 year old woman and a hick from the outback of Utah split the $600 million jackpot. What do you do next? You were so convinced you would win that you told your boss where he could 'shove it'. You told your fellow employees about your plans to do burnouts in the parking lot with the new Ferrari you were going to buy and actually put a $7500 deposit on, from your kids college fund, while their "sorry asses" were stuck working the rest if their lives. You forced your significant other into signing a postnup so they couldn't get half in case of divorce, since being monogamous was no longer an option with that type of money.  But today you sit amongst a stack of 245 losing tickets and 2 that actually paid out $3. Your dog doesn't even have respect for you anymore. Your neighbors a pissed at you for actually pissing "eat me" on their driveway and writing "nice car loser" on the dirty door of their 2009 Camry. Well here are my tips to sliding back into your old life once again. Start with texting your boss "You've been punked. We got you good. Bernie put me up to it. You should have seen the look on your face." That way Bernie takes some of the heat and you get your job back. Next, send a mass email to your fellow employees stating that you haven't checked your numbers yet and you are really planning to supply them with new cars when you win. The postnup is a little trickier since you already made advances on their best friend with your tongue involved. An accidental prescription medicine mix up excuse may do the trick. "Honey, I've been secretly going to the doctor to find ways to make myself a better sexual partner for you. I realize the embarrassment I had to go through as the nurses and doctors laughed at me behind my back, but you were worth it. I think they messed up my prescription or something because I can't remember the last week or two. So from now on I'm no longer taking those pills. How was your day?" The dog will fall into line with some treats and hey, who cares about the neighbors? They didn't like you anyway.

March Madness, what she's thinking when picking her bracket

Out of shape people and armchair coaches assemble. It's time once again to ride the backs of college kids from all over the country. Armed with a solid ten minutes of college bball knowledge amassed from last night's Sportscenter and the ability to cut and paste in a spreadsheet it is time to go to work on March Madness brackets.
There are a few things that are guaranteed, you will go into it 'knowing' you will finally win it all this year, your girlfriend will always pick the team with the cutest guys or the teams with the best names and your girlfriend will always go further than you  and may even win it all.

Sorry but it is true. If not then explain why Dick Vitale doesn't win it every year.  There is a strategy she uses that is pretty systematic and cannot be mimicked by a straight man. It starts off first and foremost by choosing the teams with the 'cutest' players. How does she even know who's on what team? Glad you asked. I don't know. But somehow girls know. I believe there is a great big brain somewhere high on a mountaintop that women all over the world share and tap into when they need this information. It probably starts with what famous person is dating who and his little brother, who's a 'hottie', plays for this college team and he's single right now and likes Twilight too. Or maybe it's encrypted in one of their magazines. Either way they know which 'hot' guy plays for what team. Then the school location comes into play. If you can't get a little of the 'good' sun, which I am told comes out around 11-2 pm, on a beach near the school, she is not picking that team. Unless the cutie clause is enacted, which trumps location. Next the school's name comes into play. If it's a catholic school, they aren't getting past round one. All hot girls hated catholic school no matter what your fantasies entail. Last but not least the schools team name or mascot decides the winners. Huskies and cuddly bears are always a good bet, but big buff dudes in metal skirts and leather straps, aka Spartans, always rank high on her brackets. The algorithm is pretty complicated, else I would have won all of my MM pools trying to mimic it. No girl likes tar on her heals, but heels are in this season and she thinks one of the players is a 'hottie'. So you can bet UNC shares a top spot on her bracket.  You may have even watched all the games in February and your college hoops knowledge may be enormous, but when Duke goes down in the first round to a 15 seed and she's the only one in your group that called it, you should have known, blue devils are just creapy smurfs trying to look tough. And by the way, don't go mentioning triple doubles in your reasoning with her why you picked your team to win, because the only thing that's going through her head at that time is those cute guys on the team you hate and that's the last thing you want her thinking double and triples about.

What's this St. Patrick's Day thing all about?

Once again we are getting ready to celebrate the world's most unifying holiday. A day in which we all dress up in funny hats and flashing buttons. A day where employment temporarily spikes for people under 3'2". A day we all chase the rainbow. No, it's not national Starburst Day and although we all drink a little too much and guys hug a lot, it's not gay pride week either. Time to put on your green leotards and grab your pipe 'cuz it's Saint Patrick's Day.

A day whose mascot is both lovable and creapy and whose side jobs range from protecting gold to fighting, from dunking basketballs to running away with hungry children's cereal in the morning. Yes the leprechaun. From the lush green meadows of Ireland to the icy tundra of Buffalo, New York. From the rain soaked Starbucks rooftops of Seattle to the kangaroo hopping, crocodile catching, not sure if the Geico lizzard is from here or England outback of Australia, we are ready to don our plastic green hats in celebration of our favorate stein raising holiday. The rules are in place. Everyone must wear green and everyone no matter what race, religion, ethnicity or status in life summons the traces of Irish in their dna. Simply follow your buddy with nature's full body tattoo, aka the freckles, and the firey red hair, and have him lead the way to the nearest corned beef and cabbage serving bar. Every place from Subway to Wendys goes Irish. I believe Burger King offers a corned beef and cabbage Whopper but I could be wrong. Either way there is a realistic possibility you may wake up next to the 'King' the next morning if your night goes right. After three bottles of Pepto-bismal to offset the gas from the Cornbeefinator, the evening starts with an invitation to the local 'Pub Crawl' where every bar serves green Pabst Blue Ribbon and like the name implies, you will end up crawling from bar to bar. This is most likely due to your body rejecting the enormous amounts of unregulated green dye more so than the alcohol itself. The pub is ablaze with blinking shamrocks pinned to shirts in an attempt to bait members of the opposite sex. Unless of course you mistook the rainbow thing, in which case, welcome. There are at least 3 guys in every establishment who are truly hard core Irish. They are easy to spot. Just look for the guys wearing a Larry Bird jersey, throwback Converse with a 33 on the side and the official 1987 Celtic shorts. You know the ones. The short, short ones. The shorts so short that if he sits down you may think someone spilled hairy pancake batter on the stool. Sorry about the visual. Green PBR does not get served to the true Irish. Guinness is a must. As well as wearing a black leather fedora. As for dancing, jigging is the only way to go on SPD. Leave your tootsie rollin' at the door. As the night goes on even the most well rehearsed Irish accent morphs into a bad pirate imitation. "Arr me matey, what's an Irishman to do to get his pint filled?" And don't be at all surprised what the fella who spouted those words looks like. For St. Patty's Day is for everyone. If you don't beleive me then just click the red link and watch: Leprechaun Sighting in Alabama So toot your 2000 year old leprechaun whistle and follow along. Whose Irish eyes are smilin'? Your's!