THE REST OF THE WEEK WAS JUST ME WATCHING TV

For the past six years, Paul and I have gone to WrestleMania. We've been to Detroit, Orlando, Houston, Phoenix (my favorite), Atlanta and Miami. This year, the big show was in New York. Seeing as how I've never been, I was pretty excited. Alas, Paul couldn't afford to go. Bitch.

I take the week of WrestleMania off every year, so last week, I had a staycation. Here's what happened:

Sunday: It was Easter. It was the Walking Dead finale. It was a good day.

I went all the way to Bert and Kelly's to watch the finale. I brought a bag of popcorn, but Kelly was upset I didn't bring more. I offered half my bag, but she refused and popped her own bag. She ate maybe a fourth of hers and threw the rest away. Starving children in Africa, people.

Monday: I watched the Cubs win their opener. All downhill from there, no doubt.

For dinner, I went to Cafe East with Paul and Leigh. It was my first time. It was solid. Then, we all went to Bert and Kelly's to watch The Following.

One of those AT&T commercials came on. Me: I hate these.
Paul: Some of them are funny.
Me: You know that guy is raping those kids off camera?

For reals, it's a creepy man in a suit sitting Indian style on the floor of a classroom with four kids at a time. There's no teacher in sight. I repeat, there's no teacher in sight. What in the Monkey Hill is going on here?

Tuesday: Watched Lincoln. Was not impressed. I did spend a solid hour on wikipedia reading about the War Between the States after it, though.

Our rec basketball team entered the day at 5-1, and we knew going into Tuesday's matchup that our opponent was slightly weak. With tons of free time on my hands, I arrived an hour and 15 minutes early to get some shooting in. And boy did it pay off as I hit 3 of 4 3-pointers.

After the first quarter, our team had 30 points. To put that in perspective, we generally score in the 30s or 40s for the entire game. In the huddle, someone suggested we go for 100 points. Seemed outlandish.

At halftime, we had 58. After three quarters, 77. Then we really got hot. We hit 5 3-pointers in a row, and suddenly we had 96 with three minutes left. That's when one official announced, "Ya'll ain't getting 100." He called three phony calls in a row on us, but there was little he could do when we got two breakaway layups in a row to hit 100 with a minute to spare.

Black Matt, who must have had 7 3-pointers on the night, tried to dribble out the clock, but the other team told him to keep playing. He whipped a crosscourt pass over to me, and I drilled my last 3 for a 103-48 victory. WE SCORED 103 POINTS!!!

David, who missed the game with a foot injury, didn't believe my initial text. For anyone who has played in this structure, it is hard to believe. It's a 32-minute game (the NBA is 48) with the clock running except in the final minute and foul shots.

What we did was something special. In four seasons, the most I've seen any team score is 70-something. For my part, I had a rec-career high 21 points, 6 rebounds, 4 assists and 3 steals.

My athletic night was not done, however. I drove to City Park from Miley to play with my old softball team. That league used to be on Mondays but moved to the same night as basketball this season. The schedule Tuesday allowed me to do both.

I drove in two runs and had a triple that I smacked down the left-field line. I also ran down some fly balls in left field in a 12-5 victory. Then it was time to celebrate with two beers at the Mid City Yacht Club. Even ran into my old friend Alex. Quite the day.

Wednesday: Paul, Bert, Black Matt and I played trivia at the Mellow Mushroom. We came in fifth out of 10 teams. But fuck, we only had four people. One question turned into a funny story.

The guy running the trivia asked: Name a group of animated crime fighting girls that starts with a ... We couldn't tell if he said P or B. Paul said the answer is Powerpuff girls. Nerd alert! The trivia guy repeated the question, and this time, he definitely said it started with a B.

No one knew a group starting with a B, but Paul insisted the answer was Powerpuff girls. Then, the guy was walking around the restaurant to deter cheaters, and Black Matt stopped him.

Black Matt: That first question, did you say P or B?
Trivia guy: B. As in Boy. Banana. Binoculars. (Then he paused, waved his hand around and pointed at us). Broccoli. (Then he walked off before we could respond as if he had just done the mic drop thing or something.)

After the round of 10 questions, he collected all the teams' answers. We scratched out Powerpuff girls and guessed something random with a B. Then he graded the sheets and read the answers.

The answer to that question was, of course, Powerpuff girls. With a P. He gave us credit for a correct answer, so we never said anything more. But what the hell, bro?

So now I'm calling the trivia guy Binocular Broccoli. Like that is his first and last name.

Thursday: Ah, Thursday. Thursday was poker day on the staycation. I played for 7 1/2 hours. Ate dinner at the hot dog stand adjacent to the poker room. For free. Oh and I got into a beef with a very muscular man who was either on drugs or just a complete asshole. He sat on the opposite side of the table.

He beat me with two pair that he got on the river to top my one pair.

Asshole: I thought you had a flush.
Me: No. Nice river.
Asshole: What? You want to do something about it? I'll arm wrestle you right now.
Me: No thanks.
Asshole. No. C'mon. Fifty bucks. We'll arm wrestle. (pauses). Fine. $100.
Me: Why not $200?
Asshole: Yeah. I'll arm wrestle you for $200. Let's go.
Me: I don't think that's fair.
Asshole: You afraid?
Me: Fine. A million dollars.
Asshole: A million? You got that? I'll break your fucking arm.

That's when I realized he wasn't clowning around as I was. He was dead serious the whole time. I didn't say another word or even look up. He just kept going.

About 15 minutes later, he folded his hand. By throwing it at me. The cards landed at the end of the table right in front of me. The dealer, a woman, called for her manager. (by calling out, "Floor!")

The floor told Asshole to calm down, and Asshole sort of apologized. But when the floor stepped away, Asshole told the dealer: "You know, you ain't so pretty to look at."

Dealer: "Floor." The floor kicked him off the table despite Asshole's pleas. As he was packing up his stuff to leave, he told the dealer: "C'mon baby. Baby." Then he gave her a lingering stare. The floor told the table later that Asshole was barred from the casino for 30 days.

Good. I thought it was a possibility that Asshole was going to follow me to my car or something and just beat the fuck out of me. He was for serious, ya'll.

Maybe I could have accepted his arm wrestling challenge and gone over the top, Sly Stallone style.

Friday: David, Sarah, Bert, Kelly, Joe and I ate at Theo's and then went to the Daiquiri shop. David had a co-worker called Opie meet us there. This guy gave freaked me out. He insisted that he knew me, which he did not.

Every 15 minutes, he came over, got in my face and started naming people he knew. He went 0 for the night. He thought I was fucking with him by not telling him how we knew each other. Nope.

It was also karaoke night. Though it wasn't our turn, Bert and I serenaded Kelly with a beautiful rendition of Faithfully. She didn't like, though.

Saturday: It was the Final Four. Two close games, so I was pleased. Louisville-Wichita State was ruined at the end by a bogus jump ball call, and Michigan-Syracuse was ruined by a charge call that was really a block. Both games could have turned out differently.

Sunday: It was WrestleMania. Instead of watching live at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey, I was at the Fox & Hound. The entire restaurant was filled with wrestling fans. So that was something.

There were three main events. The first two were really good, especially the Undertaker vs. CM Punk which had me excitedly running around our table like a damned fool. Then, the Rock and Cena was a flop, decided the entire Internet. Probably because I wasn't there live making enough noise. Thanks a lot, Paul. You ruined WrestleMania.

Monday: The final day. I watched the Cubs game and wrote this entry all the while dreading a return to the office. No worries, though. I'm off again next week for Joe and Jenna's wedding.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom saw the story on the Rutgers coach abusing his players. "Fucking wild. Thought he would never get fucking caught. Someone finally taped the motherfucker. Good. Fucking Internet getting everyone in trouble. Everyone got their fucking phone out."

Mom had found a web site that let her watch some movies for free. "But now I can't remember the fucking site." She was then upset that something wasn't OnDemand yet. "For the money we paying, they ought to fucking put it OnDemand right after it airs."

I had this fortune at Oriental the other day: Life is a play. It's not its length, but its performance that counts. I read that to mom. "Life or a dick?"

And the time before we went to Chinese, she got this fortune: If you can imagine it, you can achieve it. If you can dream it, you can become it. She read it aloud and then says to the piece of paper: "Fuck you."