So the last post pretty much summed up the Super Bowl. The Patriots going down in flames.

I'm going on record here as saying that I did my part. I wore the grey hoodie. I held the World Series popsicle stick. Which, as a testament to my illness, has held a place of honor in my kitchen since October.

Okay, maybe not a place of honor - being thrown into a little basket on top of the fridge with a ton of boxtops, sunglasses and Sox tops - but still.

It was all for naught as the defense let the game slip right out of their fingers, much like Eli slipped out of their fingers during that last drive. But at least the defense played 3.75 solid quarters of football, unlike the offensive line.

And who exactly was calling the offensive plays during the game? Because I'm hoping that they're losing sleep over their poor decisions.

This guy has a great bit on getting over the depression...

And this...my son had this on HEAVY rotation all of last week. Embed it on my blog??? It's embeded in my BRAIN. And it's all irrelevant now, so thanks for that, Flo Rida.




And to Blackbird - because I cannot reply to comments via email (is there a setting for that? It always gives me a bogus 'no reply' message...) - sorry. *hangs head in shame* I'm guessing you're not alone though and that you're not a compulsive gambler betting your mortgage payment or Middle's college tuition. At least I'm hoping your not. *crosses fingers*