I think Florida is going to win, but I secretly hope Georgetown does.

So, day in sports for the past two days has been okay. I'm getting better at knowing where stuff is, while some upsets have left me wanting to blow up the Time & Life Building.

I'm really excited to watch the Final Four. I think Florida will advance to the title game, but when it comes down to Ohio and Georgetown, I can't decide. If Ohio does advance out, however, I think they will fall to Florida pretty damn hard.

So that's what I've learned from all my reading at SI.

In other news, I slept on Steve Aquino's couch yesterday. After the 1/2 of Savage Garden show, I got lost in the city trying to find my train (I'm a dumbass) and ended up taking a cab home. So last night, not wanting a repeat of that mistake, I decided to just stay at Steve's. We went out to a pub on the UES near his apartment, had some Brooklyn Lager (tell Papa Haydes! It's really good!) and some grub, and then we smoked on his roofdeck for a while. Then, gloriously, we watched the end of Mr. Deeds and the beginning of Vegas Vacation before Steve went to bed and I fell asleep on the couch.

Then I woke up and came back to Queens, where the annoying roommate is home and bitching to her even more annoying boyfriend, Carol and Lyssa are gone, Mark isn't here and Kate is also gone. Luckily, I get to leave soon to do the 1/2 of Savage Garden interview, which I'm actually not looking forward to. The pressure is on to make it good and I'm afraid I'll fuck it all up.

Anyway, more to come.

Also, Sarah, I would like some rights on this blog. Like, we should let everyone comment but we have to approve the comments and they should have to put in those letters and numbers so that way we're not reading crap comments.

Also, Pat, you're a jerk. Please sign up and blog.

I wonder if anyone would notice if I stole a two bite brownie.

There's a special surprise at the end of this post, so keep reading, even through the boring parts (all of this post, essentially).

I need to shower. This whole "walking around like a New Yorker" thing is making my hair extra gross.

So today I was supposed to do an interview for PINK of one half of the former Savage Garden, but he's kind of wussing out and claiming "vocal rest" so I don't get my interview until Friday. And if that falls through, which Publicist has led me to believe it will, I'll have to resign myself to the dreaded phone interview, which obviously means less cool.

My first day at SI was so dull. Here's what happened, broken up by most interesting things:

I arrived. They introduced me to some people. They took me to my desk, where I don't have an email address. They left. Some reporters introduced themselves, they left. I perused the tournament scores for a while, then read some magazines (all back issues of SI), then checked my email about a million times. My boss gave me his ID to go to lunch. I did. I ate in the cafeteria 30 floors below SI all alone.
I came back. I fact-checked a photo caption. I did more email checking and reading about sports. I got my ID badge. I went to a five minute meeting. I did more email checking and reading about sports. I fact-checked another photo caption. I did more email checking and reading about sports. I bit my fingernail. I changed my shoes. I drank some coffee. I almost pulled my hair out after realizing how long I'd been reading about sports. I opened perezhilton.com. My boss popped his head into my cubicle. I closed perezhilton.com as swiftly as possible. He left. I did more email checking and reading about sports. They sent me home in a limo car.

So anyway, I'm hoping it'll pick up.

In other news, my apartment in the E. Village (which I get to move into on Sunday, woot), comes furnished and with a very nice roommate. Guess what else it comes with. Just guess.













A mancoon.

Yes, you read it right. An effing mancoon. He's not huge yet, but he is the biggest domestic cat I've seen to date. He's pretty awesome, and really, really sweet.

Time to go back

Oh, Rachel. Thank you for mentioning Kevin Costner. If it wasn't for some people watching his movies sometimes and commenting on his tan, I would never even think about the man. And that's not fun for anyone.

I'm going back to Evanston in like, an hour. Break was fun and I don't really want to go back. The mixture of impending terrible living situation plus organizing film prom (whoever thought that would be hard?) plus having to kind-of-cook again will suck.

But I am looking forward to beating up Pat for the following reasons:
1. Not returning the Netflix (although this was a mixture of faults. Really, I blame the US Postal Service for not coming to the house and picking them up personally.)
2. Not signing up for Bazungas and Fandolas yet.
3. Being a dummy.

So Rachel, you will only be missing seeing Pat's bloody face. I will send you a picture.

My parents have asked continually whether or not you're okay. Make sure you write on their facebook walls to let them know when you've found an apartment. Since they do actually love you more than me.

The series of tubes is slow in Farmersville.

So, I packed up all my stuff and drove it home and here I am, smoking cigarettes at the kitchen counter in Farmersville. Oh, what a moment.

I'm sorry I haven't updated yet. Every time I think about how hard it was to pack up all my shit, all the friends I didn't get to say goodbye to, all the fun I'll be missing out on (Sarah and Pat's birth week, other birthdays, Dillo Day, etc.), I get all misty-eyed and want to run back to Chicago and pretend that I'm interning in New York.

But alas, I'm here in Farmersville, setting up appointments to view apartments, ignoring that I haven't yet paid the bills for 1017, and worrying about my parking ticket, which, as of today, I officially owe 60 dollars for. Oops.

I want to tell a funny story or something, but I've got nothing. I did watch "For the Love of the Game" yesterday though and I really liked it. Kevin Costner really has set himself up to only play one character - a baseball player. Maybe it's his wholesome, unfading tan.

Also, my friend Johnny and I watched "How I Met Your Mother" last night and I found it to be a lot like Pat's description of "Scrubs." I think it's funny but I'm not entertained. Though, Neil Patrick Harris is a gem. A sparkly, unscratched gem. Rock.

hahahaha

You thought we were kidding.

I was totally serious.

You guys, let's write stories and stuff.