March Madness is all-consuming. I thought I was at least partially immune, able to not get fully sucked in. Nope.
I'm watching games online at work. I'm sneaking into the conference room at work to catch the end of close games. I'm thinking of reasons I need to go home from work so I can actually go to a friend's house to watch games. I'm thinking of ditching a concert on Friday that I bought tickets months ago for, just because Georgetown is playing during prime time. I'm stressed beyond belief during some games. I'm in seven pools with nearly as many brackets to keep up with. I'm crouched over during games, I'm biting my nails, I'm jumping up and down, probably making an idiot of myself. I'm talking smack all over the place, and according to Christie Pie, "For a chick you run great smack." (I'm taking that as a compliment.) All for the love of the HOYAS.
Sweet Sixteen! We made it that far last year, we're bound to reach a little farther this year. We're on a roll, let's keep it that way.
I think I'm tired of trying to do a daily blog blurb, so maybe I'll aim for weekly or something. And then I drafted something for th...
Back to IST - jumped the Havas bus to Taksim Square and set off to find the apartment I'd rented through Airbnb. We got a little lost,...
Him: You're like McDonalds. (Me thinking "Huh?") Him: I'm lovin it. No, actually I'm loving it.
My friend Sabra put together a private class at Citrus Pear dinners over the summer, and I was stoked to try it out. You head to a local gro...