Well, my Put-all-your-eggs-in-the-Big-East-basket strategy for my NCAA Tournament picks is not going well. I picked Syracuse to beat Duke on their way to the Final Four, on the basis of the great roll they've been on which is entirely because of the hot shooting of Gerry McNamara. Unfortunately, he injured his groin at some point and only played 23 minutes, didn't make a single shot from the field, and watched as Texas A&M spanked them out of the Big Dance in the first round. Big East is 0 for 3 so far. not good. You're dead to me, Gerry.
And if you're wondering why I've posted a picture of Dave Roberts, whose steal in the 04 ALCS was a key moment in the demise of the Yankees, it's because Jazzy McGee looks exactly like Dave Roberts (yeah, that's right, "shocked reader"). I'm starting to wonder if he actually is Dave Roberts and is some sort of evil anti-Dan force in the universe (is that a proper noun? there's only one by definition, right?). After he sabotaged my attempt to rent the place yesterday, the proverbial camel's back was broken and I emailed the landlord to say that I didn't know if I'd ever rent the place with his noise, and that if he happened to be out while I showed the place, I'd feel like I was deceiving potential tenants. I fully expected retribution after they talked to him, but honestly, what else is going to do? Wake me up at 12, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8? He's already done that, that, that, that, that, that, that, that, and that. This morning it came at 6:30 AM when he stomped on the floor 4 times, said "punk" and then started singing at the top of his lungs. what an ass. I put the earplugs in and went back to sleep. He also figured out how to open the hatch under his tub and scratch the metal grating directly above my bathroom. clever, dude. He either left or has been asleep this afternoon when I showed the place. Two very nice young women came in both asked about the noise and my conscience forced me to be somewhat honest about the noise. I want to tell these people not to rent the place, but if I do, I'm screwed. Quite the moral quandry.