Getting Colder

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

I jumped out of bed.  The family is supposed to be gone, thus the reason I am sleeping in on this, my 50^th birthday.

“I hope you like chocolate truffle”

Standing to the side of the bed was Snowball, the nerd dog, complete with horn-rimmed glasses, pocket protector, and a store-bought birthday cake.  It read “Happy Birthday Friend”.

“No black balloons?  No old age jokes?”

“No sir…if I did that, you would reciprocate in a couple years.”  Funny, a “dog-years” joke.  I actually got it.  I laughed.

“Why is that funny?”

Winter is Coming: Part 6--A New Alliance

Staring at a piece of paper.

Check that…staring at a computer screen that looks like a piece of paper if you stare long enough.

Or if you are not paying attention.

Why do I care about this stuff so much?  Why can’t I just follow the seeds, figure out a formula that is reasonably successful, or JUST WRITE DOWN SOMETHING, ANYTHING (or type anything—would be difficult to write on a computer screen—and expensive).

Why am I shouting?

I look over at Snowball—nope, not even shouting in text wakes him up.  He looks so peaceful—I’m jealous.  Must be nice to not have any worries, cares…or blank NCAA picks.

“You know, if you really cared, you would be over here helping me”

No movement.

Winter is Coming: Part 5--Gang Violence

I didn't like how far out I had Gonzaga.  Or Virginia.  The Cavaliers always seems to find a way to under perform in the tournament (wink, wink, nod, nod).

I don't know why I even care any more.  I waste countless hours trying to make these picks, using any number of scientific methods and the result is always the same.

Futility.

Meanwhile, back over in the nerd-spot, the dog was gnawing a bully stick.

Did I dream all of that?  Is he really just another furry terror that destroys things when people are least suspecting it?  Maybe Raap is right--maybe I am one step from crazy.

Regardless, I needed to finish the bracket.

Etan walked in.

Winter Is Coming: Part 4--Where For Art Thou Nerd?

Picking this bracket was getting frustrating.  What am I saying?  It is never NOT frustrating.

Meanwhile, something was amiss.  The nerd dog had not really moved in 48 hours.  Save for a couple "turn around three times and lay down" routines, he was not much movement.

Did I offend him?  I know I was pretty rough on him in our last (first) conversation.  It hasn't been easy since Chewy left--couple that with this damn pool and I'm no mood for chit chat.

I at least thought he would try again.  Nerds never know when to quit.

And yet, still he lays quietly in the corner.

"Snownerd, wake up"

Nothing.

Winter is Coming: Part 3—The Nerd Cometh

Let’s recap.  Talking dog (again) who talks in (polite) riddles and doesn’t appreciate morbid humor. 

There, I think you are caught up.  Except for me being buried in bracket analysis.  Again.

The nerd dog spoke (I can’t believe I just wrote that) “I will repeat my earlier question.  What are you doing?”

“My annual exercise in futility”

“That didn’t answer my question but I understand what you meant.  Let me rephrase.  Do you know what you are doing?”

Ok, now he’s not only a nerd, he’s just down right condescending.