The Day the Music Died

I now know the true meaning of utter misery and despair. Yesterday's tragic events took my heart out and smashed it to bits with a 15 pound sledge hammer. It's not even that we lost; it was the way that we lost. We never got an offensive rhythm going and our defense played as bad as it ever has. I began to develop a sick feeling in my gut and as of this very moment, it's still there.

Things started out so promising. It was a gorgeous day and I wore my lucky Bears shirt, the same one that I wore for the Seahawks and Saints victories. We got to the bar 30 minutes early and there were two empty stools right in front of the 50 inch plasmas. I took this as a message from God that my team would emerge victorious that night (actually, it was daytime for us).

Screech from "Saved By The Bell" ordering the Ahi Salad.

If you would have been there for the first play, you would have seen the most maniacal, possessed, rabid fan in the history of the world. I was jumping up and down like a mental patient screaming "Go! Go! Go!". I screamed so loud that I lost my voice. On the first play. People were looking at me like I was out of my mind and for those of you that know me, you know that I couldn't care less. This was my personal bar that day so I could yell and scream as loudly as I wanted. Life was good.

The House that Misery Built

Things began to crumble shortly thereafter and as I often do, I drank way more than I should have. At the time, drinking multiple Mai Tai's with 151 seemed like a great idea. Jessica thinks that I have a problem with self control and I'm beginning to think that she has a point. One thing leads to another and I end up passing out at 7PM. Yes, I am aware of the fact that I am almost 30 years old.

Me with two fellow schmucks

If anyone knows of a good therapist who specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder and lives in Kauai, please contact me.