So here’s the thing: I was recently at the local sports bar enjoying  a nice glass of Chardonnay and watching a little of the college basketball tournament that’s going on right now. There was a table next to me watching the game, but not for entertainment apparently. They were disgusted that “their” team was losing and according to my eavesdropping it was because of the coaching for “their” team. They were literally tearing up as the game came to a close, and slammed their beer glasses down as they finished them and stormed out of the bar continuing the persecution of the coaching staff of “their” team. I don’t know who their team was because I don’t care enough, but they were dressed all in red, so you might know, anyway, I honestly felt bad for them. Not because “their” team lost, that part was pretty awesome, but I felt bad that their lives are so sad that a game designed to entertain us can actually bring an adult to tears and anger. Did I mention it’s a game? Wow, if I pity you, then your life is really sad because my life is in shambles, but at least I don’t let a college basketball game make me cry. Did I mention it’s a game? You know what else is a game? Hopscotch. So crying and getting upset watching sports “games” is like watching two little girls playing hopscotch and crying and getting pissed off when little Suzy wins against little Sally. March Sadness is here.

So here’s the thing: What is the deal with every twentieth sunflower seed tasting like rotten shit covered in burnt hair?! It’s like there’s an asshole who works in the sunflower seed factory and every couple minutes throws some shit into the mix. I can’t stop eating them either.