19.5 hours of sleep. In four nights. Paging Dr. Yee Ikes.
1,000 beers (approximate).....at least that's what my body felt like at the end of the weekend. In reality, it was 7 hours of drinking on Wednesday, 15 on Thursday, 18 on Friday, and 12 on Saturday. I'm no mathematician, but 52 hours of drinking vs. 19.5 of sleeping is not a good ratio unless you're Frank Sinatra.
3.5 tins of chew. In a sad indicator of our age and the influences women have on our lives, I was the only chewer present who didn't have to a) annoy his significant other by chewing; 2) hide his chewing from his significant other; or D) outright lie about chewing to his significant other.
18 tums (two of which were dipped in queso. Don't judge, I was out of chips and my heart was hurting. Can't let any queso go to waste-o, dude.)
2 times I woke up in the middle of the night thinking I was having a minor heart attack. I think I'm going to stop making jokes about me dropping dead in the middle of a Chipotle burrito, because there seriously might be a heart attack coming. Real talk. Along those lines...
207 pounds is what I now weigh, the fattest I've ever been in my life. A good 10-12 pounds over my ideal fighting weight. We had a big weigh-off on Friday night during the party's collective drunkest point, and I don't think there were too many dudes who were proud of their weight. And yet, as I type this, I can only use the ring and pinky finger on my right hand, because I have Doritos chalk on my other fingers. What, I'm
not supposed to eat while typing? Grow up Peter Pan, Count Chocula.
1 argument with Bergman over the weekend (for those who know us, that would've hit the under.) This one was because he and T.Nels pulled an all-nighter playing Wii, and Bergman kept coming into my sleeping area, blasting music (yes, I know 'Anna Sun' is phenomenal, but I'M TRYING TO EFFING SLEEP!) and trying to wake me up, ignoring the fact I just went to bed three hours ago. T.Nels has the ability to hole out from 123 yards and not scream at the top of his lungs....Bergman does not. Act like you've been there before.
Top 5 greatest gambling moment of my life, taking the Butler money line vs. Pittsburgh in the 2nd round. Then coming back on top of that with a huge bet at halftime when Butler was getting 9 points in the 2nd half. The last 2.2 seconds of that game, I ran the full gamut of emotions. Unbelievable. And just to brag a little more, since bragging is fun, here's something I wrote back before the season started, and proved to be very prophetic.
"Get Pittsburgh and Villanova out of the top 10. Those two teams are horribly overrated, and I will spend the winter and spring making money gambling against them." It just took longer for me to cash in on hating Pittsburgh than Villanova, although both paid me nicely during the tourney.
9, by my count, different forms of gambling we participated in over the course of the weekend. There was gambling on tournament games, our suicide pool, our bracket draft, blackjack (hours and hours and hours of it...I would feel bad for the girls but I hope they understood that us out-of-staters don't have charitable gaming anymore-- small talk is overrated when there's a blackjack table mere feet away) Wii bowling, Wii golf, Wii three-point shootout, Farcle, electronic horse racing....and there were others that I wasn't a part of or think of right now. We've been spending most our lives, livin' in a Gambler's Paradise.
4.5 minutes of North Carolina's first round game that Horp (Carolina fan) got to watch before passing out at 6:45 pm. Friday afternoon got away from all of us a little bit, it definitely escalated quickly....but you would have to roofie at least 3-5 of my beers to make me pass out during a KU game. Tarrrrr! Heeeeeeeels!
90% of levels of 'Where's Waldo?' I got owned in by Finn, who has not yet turned 2 years old. (Supporting information: I road-tripped with Skye and Finn, who dropped me off and kept driving north to see family and friends.) In a mind-boggling display of memorization, Finn could pick out Waldo pretty much as I was turning the page. I hadn't looked at 'Where's Waldo?' for years, and was legitimately excited for the opportunity to return to my childhood, and Finn just beat me down. Humbling. (Side note: wouldn't a Grand Theft Auto or Halo-style version of 'Where's Waldo?' be awesome? Like there's all kinds of side missions and shooting and battling through a huge city, and you have to find Waldo in some room in the basement of a bombed out building in the middle of downtown? I feel like this could be awesome.)
15-20 other stories to tell, but they'd make no sense to anybody and wouldn't be funny if I tried to explain them. Curly Spice? No-Win Lynn? Top Shelv? Triple Double no assists? Where are the horses? You can Google anything? Quick hands? Sniffing nerf balls? Spider fingers? See, I told you they wouldn't make sense.
357 days until the next opening round of March Madness. This is my excited face.
