But this convenience ain't convenient anymore.

And thus begins the gradual process of slowly but surely losing my mind.

Anyone around reading this nonsense during last semester's round of miserable finals will recall I don't handle academic pressure particularly well, and yet am completely uncapable of doing things before the last minute in order to prevent said pressure.

HENCETOFORTH. I have a paper due tomorrow that I have yet to begin.

I intended to start it Friday night. You know, right after Nets/Bulls. That game went really well by the way. Actually, I was extremely tired (and perhaps a bit hungover?) and dozed off right as the game started. I drifted awake somewhere in the middle of the first quarter and was about to sit up and keep myself awake. Then I heard "Nets have started off 0 for 9..." and settled in for a spectacular first half nap.

I woke up at halftime just in time to catch the bizarre exclusive interview with Mikki and all his reptiles. It was a surreal thing to watch coming out of disjointed sleep. Searches for the segment on YouTube and the YES Network site have proved futile. I'll keep an eye out though because I'm pretty sure it was hysterical. From what I can recall, Mikki doesn't mess with poisonous snakes, his little alligator almost bit him, and he doesn't talk to any of his pets because they're "not friends...just entertainment." He said he was a Christian and not some crazy "voodoo snake guy" or something along those lines. Um...good to know.

Undeniably awesome:


So...I was supposed to go to the historic game last night. But...well, I'm an asshole. That's the only explanation I have for it. I mean, I have not had a problem going to games and buying tickets right beforehand thus far. I surely did not think a Gil-less Wiz team was about to sell out the arena. But oh boy, I sure was wrong. Which would not be a problem. Because the shuttle back and forth from Port Authority to the Meadowlands is quick and painless. Except, that is only in theory. Because in reality, if you go and are ass-out-of-luck with tickets, it is impossible for you to get back to the city until after the game. The incredibly nice and understanding (read: complete fucktard) bus driver who dropped off a bus load of people at the arena explained that he had to go back to Port Authority with an empty bus. And that no amount of money I had would get him to let us on his bus. I tried to negotiate with him and he just told me he would get in trouble if there was anyone on the bus when he returned to the city. By the end of it, I didn't even care if he wouldn't let me on the bus, I just wanted an explanation of what the fuck such a stupid policy was based upon. Predictably, he could not give me one. Whatever though, my friend pointed out he was just following orders and doing his job. You know, I know of another group of people who were just following orders- THE NAZIS. Just kidding, but seriously. What a stupid policy. I'm sure the stupid bus overlords didn't have the idea of stranding a cute girl like me at the freaking Meadowlands in mind when they dictated their stupid bus policy. Anyway, my friend lucked out w/ a ride for us, so they both win the "Knight in Shining Armour" award for the weekend.

Whatever though. I had a mostly fun 15-hour adventure that happened to start off with the Mr. April show in the Bronx. All credit given to my friend who shared in it with me. Even though he hated the adventure. And hates blogs. And most likely hates me now too.

Moving on.

Where are my goddamn Oreo O's when I need them?

A very big thanks to MCBias (is that how you like to be credited? I don't even know, I feel you have too many handles for me to keep track of, although that is most likely unreasonable on my part?) for pointing me to this post over at the FanHouse. I have found less time at a computer makes it much harder to keep up with the FanHouse posts because there are just so freaking many. Also it has made me a horrible pen pal, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, my adoration for Alex has just jumped 1,000x due to his successful rockage of a cheesy moustache. At a theme party no less. I've never been to a theme party, but I hear they're a rocking good time. If his looks alone didn't get him there, I think this just easily rocketed him into "favorite NFL QB" territory right there. And yes, that is partially due to the fact that my favorite team is helmed by the youngest Manning brother. Trust me, Eli. I WANT to love you. But here is a helpful hint on Becky: my love must be earned. EARNED, I say. Anyway, everyone knows of my affinity for a fine 'stache (see: 1 Adam Morrison t-shirt, rocked), so well done, Mr. Smith.
The Hulkster approves.