CHICKS. I TELL YOU.

Very recently, I went to the Fox & Hound to watch a UNC game. The game was on the ESPN full-court package, which is far too expensive for any normal person to have at home. That's why we have these types of places.

The problem is that most of the employees have no idea that such a package exists. In fact, out of the 60 TVs in there, exactly zero of them are ever on the full-court stations (unless someone requests it). This makes no sense because the restaurant is paying a $100 a month (or something like that) for the service but not using it. Toilet open. Drop money. Flush.

So, here's my conversation with the hostess:

Hostess: How many?
Me: One. And can I have a game put on one of the TVs.
Hostess: Sure. Who's playing?
Me: North Carolina.
Hostess: What is that? Football?

(Note: After being seated, I had to wait for the manager to come out of the back to put on the game. I missed the first five minutes.)

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is watching Court TV. A verdict is handed down. "Yeah. And you'll get fucked up the ass."

Mom watches the E! channel for a little while. "I love watching rich people's stories. They got so much fucking money they don't know what to do with it but get into trouble."

PARTING SHOTS
The LSU women's writer, who is 22 and goes to LSU, calls to say her story is in. I have her on hold while trying to see if it is in. E-mail becomes a metaphor.

Jelly (picking up the phone): Hey. We're not ignoring you. Somebody can't get his e-mail up.
Me (in a panic): It ain't working.

I almost choke on some king cake but recover.

Sandy: D, quick. Mouth to mouth.
D (unaware of what's going on): What?
Sandy: Gene was choking.
D: Sorry, Gene.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
The top five suggestions for today's top-five list as given by those who stayed late Saturday night.

5) Top 5 king cakes.
Nah, I really only like Randazzo's.

4) Top 5 chain restaurants.
Waffle House, Outback. That's two.

3) Top 5 Pro Bowls.
If someone can actually make that list, he needs to have his head examined. Then we had top five reasons to watch the Pro Bowl. Hmm, hula girls and to make sure Brees doesn't get hurt. Again. Well, that's two as well.

2) Top 5 Mardi Gras experiences.
Every one until I was like 13 went the same way. I've slept through too many since for a full list.

1) Top 5 Valentine's Day dates.
Uh, I've had one. Involved lunch and Miracle on Ice.

I'D LIKE TO REPORT A SCORE.

For the past few weeks, I've been taking prep calls again. Not a lot. But a few to help out during the busy basketball season. I've been reminded of the wonderful joy that is taking these calls. And by joy, I mean slight torture.

About half the calls feature plenty of noise (other people, music, the horn from another game) in the background, so you have to make the caller repeat the spelling of names about a thousand times. The other day, the caller said the kid's name three times. I couldn't make heads or tails out of it. I ask the caller to spell the name please. "J-O-N-E-S."

Other times, the person is naturally hard to understand. That can turn what should be a minute phone call into a solid five minutes, where I'm sitting there on the phone with a pen in my hand pretending to stab myself in the eye.

Max and I have a favorite. It's the beginning of these conversations.
Caller: Have a boys game to report.
Max: OK. What was the score?
Caller: 60-48. (As if Max psychically knows which teams played. That leads to:)
Max: Uh. Who won?
Caller: Insert team name.
Max: Who lost?
Caller: Insert team name.

On Friday night, I finally got a caller to say the score with the teams. Except:

Me: What was the score?
Caller: Ellender 53, Helen Cox 55.

We used to pay those who call in prep boxes $10 a call. This was back in the day (I know. I'm only 25.) when we got 80 calls a night. That's $800 a night for people (who don't work here) to call in prep scores. Sometime in (I want to say) 2004, we did away with that.

Yet Friday night, Max had to tell a caller that we would not pay him for the boxscore. Shams says that has happened about 10 times this season. Eh, it's only been five years since we stopped paying. These things take time to make the rounds.

When we did pay $10, I would always suggest that we cut it down to $5 per call, take the money we saved and have a big crawfish boil. Never happened.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom likes her new nail guy. "My nails have been growing really well lately. Now that I've got somebody who knows what the fuck he's doing."

Mom is unhappy with me early Friday.
Mom: Why did you leave these two TVs blaring last night?
Me: I didn't. I came home and went to bed. Didn't do anything to these TVs.
Mom: Bullshit! (Really, I didn't. If they were blaring, it was because she left them on.)

Mom hasn't been drinking the water she likes. "I can't find my grape water. Fucking Winn Dixie's been out of it the last three times."

I'm finishing up my seafood lunch. Mom looks at the wreckage. "There's fucking crawfish all over the ketchup bottle."

Mom still doesn't know what to do about the treadmill situation. "I'm scared to get on the fucking treadmill. I might go flying through the fucking wall. The belt heats up too much at about 12 minutes. At 3.6, it feels like I'm still walking. Then, all of a sudden, I'm going so fucking fast. I can't keep up. And there's shit all over the floor. I don't know what it is. Pieces of the treadmill, I guess."

Mom doesn't like the condition of my shoes. "When you gonna buy some new fucking shoes?"

THE GENE POOL DIP (I MEAN TIP) OF THE WEEK

Don't drive on Airline Highway near the city for the next few weeks. Just don't do it. It's a freakin traffic nightmare. I moved 20 feet every minute for 20 minutes Friday afternoon.

They're repaving the road. That's great. Love a smooth road. But I can't sit in that traffic every day for the next whatever weeks. You know how much gas that wastes? The condition of Airline sucks because I use that road to go to work and to Hornets games.

I just figured out the reason for the new road, though. They want to make sure the highway leading to Pancho's has no bumps for the big reopening.

PARTING SHOTS
Liam reads quite the line on the front page of nola.com. It's from a JD column.

JD: Never has one groin meant so much to so many.
(Brick tells this to Marcus on AIM.)
Marcus: That's my motto. Yours?

I'm telling Brick and JRap how I almost got kicked out of a Hornets game recently by Lady Usher. I then turn around and start saying things at the Hornets-Raptors game like, "Oh, baby" and "Get it" and "Oh, baby" again.

Brick (on AIM): If that's how you were cheering, I understand. She thought you were hitting on her.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
The top five pieces of good news at work this week.

5) Online AP style book.
There is no entry for bunghole, though.

4) Skittles.
Had my first bag in more than a month. Still five cents, baby.

3) New computers.
Word came down this week that we're getting new computers at some point. Can we beat the shit out of these?

2) Blogging.
Pretty soon someone will be assigned each night to edit content on nola.com. I like the idea of this.

1) Resignation.
A writer we all hate resigned earlier this week. We're going to have a party celebrating his departure, and he won't be invited.

AND CP3 ISN'T THE MVP? 

I got a text message from Brian while at lunch Wednesday saying that he had extra Hornets tickets. Since I'm not allowed to turn down Hornets tickets, I agreed to go. OK, there's no law that says I can't reject tickets, but my inner being won't allow me to not go if I can. 

Bob, Brian, Paul and I met at Chuck's house and parked for free, courtesy of a Bob connection. There was a walk involved to the Arena, which was fine. Except that it was freezing, and I left my coat on Chuck's couch. What an idiot. 

I'm just going to pretend like Wednesday's game didn't happen. Here are some random notes:

1) I offered Lopes an extra ticket, but he told me he was already going to the game. I told him on the phone that maybe I'd see him there. We're standing outside the Arena at 6:50 waiting for Danny to meet us when I see Lopes approach the building. That was semi-exciting. 

Bob: Who was that? 

Me: Lopes. 

Bob: Oh. He looks like he's loping around. 

2) We sat in Section 320. And guess who our usher was? Yup. Lady Usher. I'm pretty sure she gave me a glare when I walked past her. Luckily, I didn't have any fun at the game, so I didn't get in any trouble with her. 

3) To make the game more interesting (I mean interesting) in the second half, Bob and I invented a game called pick-your-quarter night. In this game, the home team picks a quarter, and that period counts for the whole game. Lo and behold, the Hornets won the fourth quarter, thanks to the hustle of Ryan Bowen. Victory is ours! (Well, if Byron Scott was smart enough to pick the fourth quarter as the one that counts.) 

4) My dad is most happy that I'm now on the fire-Byron-Scott bandwagon. Dad: "Good. Let's get rid of that damn Laker." 

5) On the walk to the Arena, we saw a helicopter fly overhead really low. That was strange. Brian estimated that it was at the level of the fifth floor of the building we were near. Bob says this has been happening often at night. Hmm. 

6) Brian had five tickets leftover. While we were waiting for Danny, a would-be buyer approaches Brian (who had the envelope with the tickets in his hand). 

Would-be: You selling tickets, man? 

Brian: Yes.

Would-be: How many you got? 

Brian: Four together. 

(Would-be seems interested, but for some reason he begins running away.)

Would-be: You take $10? (He yelled this as he ran away.)

Brian (yelling): I'll do $10 a piece. 

We thought maybe he was going to get the money, but he never came back. 

7) The only excitement in the Arena was the halftime show. We were all impressed. Bunch of dudes doing flips and stuff off a trampoline. Here's one of them in motion: 

The finish of the show was a jumping-people routine. The first acrobat jumped over a row of Whorenets (bottom right). Then that dude stood next to the Whorenets for the next dude to jump. And so on and so forth. The final acrobat jumped off that trampoline and over 16 people before landing near the edge of the mat. AMAZING. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom was excited about last night's American Idol cuts. "Down from 147 to 104. Can you imagine going all the way out to Hollywood and then picking the wrong fucking song? That's got to suck."

Mom had never heard of the Lincoln-Kennedy correlation. I tell it to her. "Ain't that some shit."

Mom and I have both watched the first half of Season 1 of Lost.

1) About Ethan of the others: "He beat the fuck out of Jack."

2) On Kate's bank robbery: "She broke into a fucking bank to get to a safety deposit box for a fucking plane. Come on."

Mom is upset at her treadmill situation. "What the fuck am I going to do about my treadmill?"

Then, thirty minutes later. Mom: I'm fucking tired and depressed.

Me: What's wrong?

Mom: My fucking thing won't work, and I don't know what I'm going to fucking do about it.

We're watching House, and mom has no sympathy for Wilson (who is trying to cope with his girlfriend's death) at episode's end. "Oh, wash the fucking cup. Probably has ants all in there and shit."

PARTING SHOTS

I'm telling Brick that first-round soccer playoff games are blowouts.

Me: In my senior year, our first-round game was so bad, I was in the stands in the second half with my uniform off.

JRap: My god, he was naked in the stands.

Brick: Did Tina ever get a yellow card from the stands?

Me: No. But my dad was really bad.

Marcus: What about Regina? Did she cry when you ... uh ... uh ... made a goal?

Liam: You really stumbled through that one.

Marcus: Well, I was trying to be PC. I didn't want to say, 'Did she cry whenever you scored?' "

(Much laughter. Pause.)

Shams: And she's still waiting to cry.

I tell Marcus I was once chief copy editor.

Marcus: But you never won an award.

Me: I was a finalist for a national award.

Marcus: So was Barbaro. Now, he's racing for Jesus.

Jelly confides in me about her cursing situation.

Jelly: I'm editing my curses in my head. And I feel bad when I curse in my head.

Liam: That's fucked up.

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five fruits (Ha. Ha. TBS.) 

5) Banana. 

I'm dreaming of banana pancakes.

4) Strawberry. 

Especially in a smoothie. 

3) Orange.

Not a fan of peeling it. 

2) Pineapple. 

One shown in every Psych episode. 

1) Nectarine. 

I like to throw the pit at people. 

TINA: IT'S JUST A FUCKING DOUGHNUT. 

For the time in several years, the T-P sports department has a king cake chain going. (King cake chain: One person brings in a king cake, and whoever gets the baby brings in the next one. Rinse and repeat.) This makes me happy because I love king cake season, and it always seemed sad that our section couldn't use this simple tradition to develop camaraderie. 

Brick brought in the first one a couple Saturdays ago. I guess he deserves most of the credit then for this king cake chain thing. Thanks, guy. Marcus got the baby. He gave me the money, and I picked up a king cake from the Harahan Randazzo's on Tuesday afternoon. 

After waiting for the day workers to leave, I brought up the four de lis. That's Randazzo's name for it. It has four fillings: apple, strawberry, pecan praline and cream cheese. It was a pretty big hit and went fast. On a personal note, I tried strawberry filling for the first time. Loved it. It's now my favorite filling. Tastes just like a jelly doughnut. 

Marcus was super stoked about the king cake and cut the first piece. 

That's the sliver the Big Guy took of cream cheese. And as luck would have it, the poor bastard got the baby. I thought this was just hysterical and nearly fell over laughing. That's got to be the tiniest first piece ever cut that had the baby in it. 

The knife actually hit the baby when Marcus was slicing it. Marcus was disappointed to learn from D that hitting the baby with the knife gave him ownership of it. Two king cakes. Two babies for Marcus. You got to feel bad for him. Well, sort of. Karma is a bitch. 

I can't wait to see him go for the trifecta. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom went to Circuit City to check out their going-out-of-business deals. "Fucking joke. I told the manager his sale prices were more expensive than Best Buy's regular prices." 

Mom wakes up Wednesday morning to see me watching Scrubs and laying on the sofa. I'm using my jacket as a pillow. 

Mom: That zipper can rip the sofa.

(I just smile up at her.)

Mom: You don't give a shit, do you? 

Mom is halfway through the first season of Lost. I tell her I've read some spoilers. 

Me: The island is magical. 

Mom: It's also harsh. It fucking kills people.

Me: There's time traveling. 

Mom: You just couldn't wait to get that off your fucking chest, huh? Stop reading that shit and relaying it to me. 

It was pretty darn cold Wednesday. Mom shivers even with a blanket on her. "Fuck!" 

FOUR CORNERS

-- WrestleMania XXV is 60 days away. Time to start an official countdown. I couldn't be more excited about this. But I was ashamed of myself after a conversation with Gamby on Tuesday. Somehow I didn't know this before Gamby told me: The Cubs are playing a series against the Astros while I'm in Houston for the big show.

How did I not look this up? I feel like I should write an apology and send it to Chicago. Here's the drawback: Opening night is Monday, April 6, but that's also the night of the NCAA national championship. You know, where UNC will cut down the nets. 

Now I have to convince Paul to stay an extra night in Clutch City so I can go to Tuesday night's baseball game. This may be the greatest trip ever. 

-- Last night I was watching the last episode of Disc 1 of Season 3 of How I Met Your Mother on my portable DVD player on my way home from work. As soon as the credits started rolling at the end, the battery died. And that's when I knew this was going to be a good week for me. 

 

-- Two more Super Bowl notes.

1) I'm suing ESPN.com's Sports Guy. Or I should anyway. He obviously reads The Gene Pool and thinks he can just blatantly steal my ideas. In Sunday's entry, I referred to the penultimate play as Warner's "fumble." Sure enough, in Monday's half Super Bowl diary, Bill Simmons calls it Warner's "fumble." Uh. How about a little credit, you thief? 

(It still amazes me how little attention that play is receiving. It's like the media all agreed not to mention it. I think the merchandise makers told the NFL they needed the Steelers to win in order for them to make any money. So blame the economy for Warner's "fumble.")

2) Holmes' catch is all the rage. And it should be. Helluva catch. Now comes the question of what to name it. There was much debate on last year's Great Helmet Escape Catch (there are more than 20 names for it - including mine - listed on its Wikipedia page).

I've got a name for Holmes' winning catch. THE TRIPLE TIPPY-TOE CATCH. Triple because the pass was thrown over three Arizona defenders. Tippy-toe because that's what he got in bounds when he made the reception before falling out of bounds. Plus, it's alliteration.  

-- In the past two days, I've had lunch with each of my parents. On Tuesday, Tina and I went to Ground Pati. I had a hamburger. We talked mostly about pop culture. On Wednesday, my dad and I went to Copeland's. I had the eggplant pirogue. We talked mostly about sports. 

The reason dad and I went to Copeland's was I had a coupon for a free appetizer. Of course, I forgot it on the table in my back room. Good move, ace. 

PARTING SHOT

D reads that Sheryl Swoopes was just waived Tuesday afternoon. He gets nostalgic. 

D: Swoopes, Thompson and Cooper. Can you name a better threesome? 

Me: (tilting my head sideways at an angle to look at my thought box.)

D (figuring out what I'm doing): In basketball. 

Me: Oh. 

D: Man, you people some sick. 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five TV threesomes. (Like the theme I developed here?)

5) Foreman. Cameron. Chase. House. 

It was a bold move when the show broke up this group. Is bold the right word? 

4) Richie. Potsie, Ralph. Happy Days. 

Sit on it, Max. 

3) Ted. Marshall. Barney. How I Met Your Mother.

How Ted met Barney. Barney approaches Ted in the bar. 

Barney: Ted, I'm going to teach you how to live.  

Ted (confused by the stranger): OK. 

Barney: Lesson 1: Lose the goatee. It doesn't go well with your suit. 

Ted: I'm not wearing a suit.

Barney: Lesson 2: Get a suit. 

2) Jerry. George. Kramer. Seinfeld. 

So, it's mainly a foursome with Elaine. Whatever. Don't make me call the jerk store back. 

1) Ross. Chandler. Joey. Friends. 

I ask Tina for how thoughts on this trio. "They're not the best threesome of all-time. It's the stooges. I've never had a threesome. I haven't done a lot of shit." 

I'LL STAND THERE FOR TWO HOURS WITH MY ARMS FOLDED.

There isn't a site yet, but there should be one. FIREBYRONSCOTT.COM. Somebody. Anybody. Start this thing. (There is a firemikedunleavy.com. As well there should be.) Monday night was the last straw for me. Let's review the camel's backbreakers. 

1) When your star player complains of discomfort in his groin and your team is up by 17 points, send him to the back for some quick treatment. Would that have hurt at the end of the third quarter? I think not. 

2) Matchups down the stretch Monday: Rasual Butler (that's the Hornets shooting guard) on LaMarcus Aldridge (that's the Blazers power forward and best low-post player); Peja (who was playing surprisingly good defense all night, though the stretch is a different animal) on hot-shooting, able-to-create-his-own-shot Travis Outlaw.

Yo, Byron. We were up by double digits. We don't exactly need Peja out there. Besides he wasn't feeling it anyway (6-of-17). So how about a) putting Peja on the bench, b) putting Hilton in for him and have him guard Aldridge, so that he's not yawning out there as he scores another basket, c) have Posey shut down Outlaw and d) put Butler back on Roy (who was 2-of-10 mainly because of Butler)? 

3) Scott called two timeouts while the Hornets still had the lead in the fourth. I don't know what he said, but I bet it wasn't this: "Hey guys. We've got them in foul trouble. Be aggressive, especially you D-West like you were in the first half. Get fouled and make some foul shots." From 7:50 left (up 79-74) until West made a putback with 3:56 left to tie the score at 83, the Hornets had eight possessions. On one, Peja got fouled and made foul shots. The other seven ended with long jumpers. Ugh. 

OK, now that I've unleashed that negativity, time to break things and have some fun. Despite Byron Scott, I still think this team can win. They really miss Chandler's defense. D-West will find his jumper. I think Posey will make a jumper again at some point. Come playoff time, they'll have as good a chance as any team. 

Hugo stopped by Section 312 for some hugs in the second quarter. Where was he when I really needed him in the fourth quarter? 

This is Section 324 on Monday night. That's 13 rows in a row without one person. I looked over at this section about 50 times and never saw a person in any of these seats. So don't let anyone tell you how well the Hornets are doing with attendance. K? 

I took this picture at halftime, which was action-packed. 

1) I went down to Section 123 to claim a free Hornets hat. The other day, I got an e-mail from the Hornets saying if I filled out a survey, I could get a free hat. Filling out the survey, printing the confirmation and putting the sheet in my bag took a grand total of one minute. Not the greatest hat in the world, but it was free. 

2) I took the picture of 324 live from Section 324. 

3) I went to the bathroom. Coming out of there, I saw someone I went to high school with. He stopped to start a conversation. I went right by him. 

4) I checked another section to see if somebody was in attendance. Negative. 

5) I got dinner from the WOW! (All that, and I made it back to my seat two minutes before the third quarter started. Note: Lady Usher was not there Monday. In fact, there was no usher in my section.) 

Man, Byron Scott even walks with his arms folded. Yuck. Oh, there's CP3 in a world of pain. When I saw him go down, I thought he was out for two or three weeks. Thankfully, it ain't so bad. I noticed a crazy Lincoln-Kennedy type correlation with Chandler and CP's injuries. 

Both were on a Monday game in my 10-game package. 

Both happened while each was trying to make a nice play.

Both went down in a heap and scared the shit out of me. 

Both games involved the Hornets blowing big leads (different ending, I know.) 

Both were controlling that particular game when they went down. 

Both times Paul was with me, though he wasn't supposed to be. (For the Chandler game, he bought a ticket in a different section and sat by me. I didn't ask him to or invite him to do that. I was with Tina. For the CP game, my first guest backed out, and Paul was my backup.)

All those together equal something but nothing major. I think this last one brings it home to the creepy side. I'm not making this up. During the timeout right before each injury, my section won a "prize" based on someone weaving in and out of cones faster than the competition. 

For the Chandler game, a dude dribbled around some cones to win us something from Sonic. Paul (and maybe three other people) went walking across the Arena to claim the prize. There was a deadline. He came back with a beer. He couldn't find the Sonic people, though one lady came back with some coupons. 

For the CP game, a kid rode a bike around some cones to win us a 2-piece meal from Scooters chicken. This time, the person announcing this to our section spoke really softly (only like three rows heard her) and left. Paul went to claim the prize (again before a deadline), along with maybe three other people. 

He came back with two coupons for the chicken, but it can't be redeemed at the Arena. It has to be used at one of four West Bank locations, on St. Claude or in Chalmette. I lost the coupons. 

To recap: Both Mondays a contestant was playing for Section 312. That contestant won both times. Both times the majority of our section had no clue we won. Both times Paul (who wasn't supposed to be with me) walked around the building to claim the terrible prize. Both times a star player went down a few plays later. 

Lessons: 1) Section 312 should not be allowed to ever win anything ever again. 2) They're not giving anything away at the Arena (except that hat I got). 3) Don't let Paul go anywhere if he wasn't invited in the first place. 4) Cones should be banished from the Arena. 

When the score was Hornets 78, Blazers 70 with 9:18 remaining, I turned to Paul and said: "They'll lose by 10." OK. I was off by two. But still. Look, I wasn't trying to be a negative nancy. I wasn't trying to do reverse psychology on myself. That was my "expert" opinion based on Byron Scott being the coach and the body language of the players. 

Did I stop cheering? No. I probably cheered as loud as I've ever cheered at a Hornets game (excepting Game 7 vs. the Spurs, of course). I yelled DEFENSE and clapped. I stood up the last eight minutes. I yelled at Scott to put in Hilton. I said Let's Go. And Come On. Etc. 

Know what the problem was? The rest of the crowd (it was full in the lower bowl) was the problem. They just sat there and took it like a prison bitch. It was pathetic. I blame the crowd just as much as Scott and the players. We didn't give them any energy. Which is strange because I've thought the crowds the past two seasons have been unbelievable. 

And that's why I broke this seat.  

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom likes discussing American Idol and its history. 

Mom: Who won before David Cook?

Me: Jordin Sparks.

Mom: Oh yeah. That was a fucked-up season. 

I then ask mom to name all the winners and all the runner-ups. When she gets to the fifth season, she says Taylor Hicks and Katharine McPhee. "Man, that season was fucked up." 

Mom watches a segment on some show about David Cook. "You hear that? Fucking music first. A girlfriend second. (She nods her head.) He has his priorities straight." 

I'm working on my material in my room when mom says from the hallway: "That fucking guy Joel on Talk Soup. He's so funny." 

E! shows a highlight of the show Bromance. "Bromance. What the fuck is that?" 

Mom and I are talking about the difference between the Metairie Randazzo's and the Harahan one. "Your dad went there (Harahan) at 8:30 on Saturday. Not a soul in there. Other place probably had a fucking line around the fucking building." 

Mom is religiously going to a tanning salon. She doesn't like the Mystic tan. "That's for fucking people who don't know how to let the fucking shit take them over." When she went the other day, however, she couldn't get a tan. "Place was fucking flooded. Well, the back part where I go was."  

COULD HAVE ADDED THE CHIHUAHUA IN THERE, TOO.

Besides talking about Warner's "fumble" and the lack of media coverage on it (can you say "they" wanted the Steelers to win?), my favorite topic to discuss from the Super Bowl is the commercials. I told you my top five, but I had strong feelings on several others (both in favor and not in favor). 

Namely, the Taco Bell one where a guy quickly advances a relationship with a woman he meets at a party. He calls her, gets dinner and introduces her to his parents. Several co-workers really liked this ad. I beg to differ. 

This was a ridiculous concept. That in itself is not a problem. Starting with a ridiculous concept is fine. But when you have a ridiculous concept, you need to run, no sprint, with it. Instead, Taco Bell jogged with it. Jogged. You jog in warmups. This was the SUPER BOWL. 

Yes, I have a solution. Well, Paul and I came up with a better finish on the way to the Hornets game Monday. Our idea involves adding two quick moments to the ad. Time-wise, they'd have to quicken the rest of the ad to fit these. But that wouldn't be too difficult. 

1) As the guy's mom says, "Is this her?" the woman should have a weird look on her face. Keep in mind, she was chewing during the parent introduction. There should have been an engagement ring in the enchilada. 

2) In shock, the woman stands up and gives a look to the guy. He stands as well and makes a gesture for her to face forward. She turns to see a priest. "Dearly beloved." 

And end scene. 

PARTING SHOT

D is reading a story about the Super Bowl. 

D: You see what happened in Arizona after Larry Fitzgerald's touchdown?

Me: Heidi came on? 

Marcus: Something like that.

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five bands of the 70s. (On the day the music died.)

5) The Rolling Stones.

Also would be in my top bands of the 60s.

4) The Eagles.

Greatest Hits Vol. 1. Doesn't get much better than that. 

3) Queen.

I have fond memories of a certain song in The Maroon office.

2) Aerosmith.

Mom has all my old toys in the attic.

1) The Steve Miller Band.  

Michael Phelps: He's a looker. He's a pacemaker. He's a midnight toker. (What does his mom have to say about all this?)

CAN YOU SAY BASKETBALL SEASON? 

On my way home from work Sunday, I was discussing the Super Bowl with Paul. We both agreed a full review should have been conducted on Warner's "fumble." We both were cheering for overtime. He thought Ben played a really good game. I thought Ben was just OK until the last drive. Blah. Blah. Blah.

I then say that now it's time to focus on basketball season. Especially since there's no Arena League season to carry us over. Here's some of our conversation. Keep in mind that Paul has been a Suns fan and a LeBron fan for as long as he's watched basketball, which is four or five years. 

Me: You gonna be a fan of the Knicks in 2010?

Paul: Why would I cheer for them? 

Me: Well, they already have the old Suns coach, and then they might get Wade or LeBron or both in 2010.

Paul: Why would LeBron want to go there? 

Me: Why you think? 

Paul: Oh. Is he from there? 

Me: No. He's from the Cleveland area. 

Paul: Oh really? So then what's in New York? 

Sigh. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom started watching the Super Bowl tape before I woke up Monday. 

Mom: You see Jennifer Hudson?

Me: No. 

Mom: She hit that fucking high note, man. 

We start watching the Super Bowl coverage from the start of the game. "You see who Hudson is fucking engaged to?" I say no. "One of the guys from I love New York." 

As I'm fast forwarding to the first set of commercials, mom breaks some big news to me. She says this in a sort of sing-song voice. "I won a fucking quarter." (Yup. Her numbers were 3 and 0, and she won the first quarter. A big-time $25.) 

Mom got a new break tag today and wasn't happy with the person who did it. "I had to wait for the fucking pavement to dry before I got it. It wasn't even raining." 

Mom was not impressed with Bruce's halftime show. During the first song, she yelled at him in not a nice way: "Play the fucking music." 

I show mom all the good commercials and the big plays at the end of the game. Even she thought Warner's "fumble" was a pass. "That's a fumble, my ass." 

Mom can see soap opera developments coming from afar. "Tell your friend Kelli to watch tomorrow because Sharon and Nick are going to fuck." 

We're flipping through the stations. Mom watches 15 seconds of P.S. I Love You. Lisa Kudrow's character announces to her friends that she's getting married and that the wedding is on New Year's Eve. Mom's reaction: "Who the fuck would get married on New Year's Eve?" 

Randomly, mom says to me: "You hear all the shit going on with the Travolta family? Some sick people out there. Taking pictures of his dead kid." 

DID YOU KNOW?

Did you know that Larry Fitzgerald's dad is a sportswriter? It's true. He's covered every Super Bowl since 1981. Oh, you saw him in the press box during the fourth quarter Sunday like 10 times? I see. I saw that, too. 

Every Super Bowl has its signature overblown storyline. Do you remember that Jerome Bettis is from Detroit and that Kurt Warner used to bag groceries? Well, Fitz's dad being a sportswriter was this year's version of those. You couldn't avoid hearing about that. They even did another piece on it during the pregame on NBC. Geez louise. 

What I didn't learn from all the stories about Fitz's dad covering him in the big game is that the paper pops works for is little known in Minnesota. According to a chat I read anyway. He writes for an African-American weekly paper that covers community issues and major sporting events. Interesting. 

I did feel sorry for Papa Fitz on Sunday. His son was out there putting on a MVP performance in the freakin' Super Bowl, but he couldn't cheer. Couldn't clap. Couldn't pump his fist. 

That must have sucked. Would anyone have really blamed him if he did a dance after the 64-yard touchdown? I wouldn't have. It's not like he's writing for a big-city daily paper. It's a weekly with a specific niche. He didn't even have a laptop in front of him. 

PARTING SHOT

On Super Bowl Sunday, I'm telling my co-workers about the time I was a national finalist for a reporting award because of a story I wrote. 

Me: You know who I lost to? I came in third. The top two were done by entire staffs. 

Jelly: That's what it takes to beat you.

Marcus: Yeah. He does the work of a whole staff. 

JRap: A staff infection. 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My favorite five teachers at Rummel.

5) Mrs. Manning. 11th Chemistry.

I hated science. It was my worst subject. And I hated most of my science teachers. But Mrs. Manning rocked. Sure, she was a good teacher. She makes the list, though, because she was so darn easy to get along with. She knew where to draw the line, but you always felt like you were friends with her. 

In senior year, I would go into her room after school sometimes and just chat. 

4) Mr. Hayes. 10-11th Religion.

Sometimes it's hard to listen to someone preach about their faith and such when you can tell they've always been like that. It's much more inspiring and impactful when the person used to be a wild man. As in the case of Mr. Hayes. 

I really liked his conversion story, and whenever I find myself slipping, I think of Mr. Hayes. He was awesome on senior retreat as well. Plus, he had a bad-ass beard. 

3) Mr. Gomez. 11-12th Math.

You know that movie Stand and Deliver about the Calculus teacher? Yeah. That's Mr. Gomez. He cared about Math so much, it was funny. When people would miss class because of an extracurricular activity, (football, student council, etc.) he would get mad and yell: "No. Math must come first." 

He once berated the announcement lady for buzzing into the classroom during his lecture to call a student out of class. I thought she was going to break down and cry. Seriously. 

Mr. Gomez was so cool we never called him Mr. Gomez. We went with Tilo (his first name was Atilano, so Tilo for short) or Captain Math. He embraced that. I have a picture of our Calculus class and him huddled around his desk sitting on my mantle in my back room. 

Tilo was the hardest teacher I ever had. He was good but really hard. He gave me my only C of my life. Hey, it was a C+ in the first quarter, and I pulled it up to a B- by the end of the semester.

2) Coach Paci. 10-11th Computer Science.

Some of my comedic influence comes from Coach. Once he had a formula on the projector (Bacon + lettuce + tomato = sandwich) to show something more complicated. After explaining that part of the lesson, he took his pointer and touched the word lettuce on the projector. Coach: "Let us continue." His other famous phrase was: "There's no such thing as dogs because they are small horses." 

In 11th grade, his off period was the same as my lunch period. Sometimes, he would let me go in his classroom, and we'd turn on the Cubs game. How awesome is that? 

1) Mr. Roso. 8th, 10th, 11th English. 

His classes started me on the path of this journalism thing. My favorite subject in grammar school was Math (I still love numbers), but his classes made me switch to writing. 

Mr. Roso's classes were a beast. The previous eighth-grade class before us had three out of 30 people get higher than a D. Those were some scary facts heading into high school. I put the most work of my schooling life into his courses. But I got so much out of them. 

And he bought five squares in my Super Bowl pool I did in 10th grade, which I'm pretty sure was not allowed. I would have gotten at least a detention if caught. Probably worse. But in the middle of English class, there he was handing me five bucks for his squares. Of course, the bastard won two quarters. Next day in class:

Mr. Roso: Gene, you have something for me? 

Me: Nah. How about I just let someone know you participated in such a thing? 

Mr. Roso: OK. How about I let someone know you conducted such a thing? 

Me: Uh. Here's your fifty bucks.  

Mr. Roso: That wasn't so hard, now was it? 

I HATE WHEN HEADLINES PLAY ON THE WORD SUPER. IT'S LAME. 

For the sixth year in a row, I watched the Super Bowl at work. Next year when the Dolphins are in it, I'm taking off. Nobody would want me around in the office for that anyway. 

I have a tradition where I eat a different bag of chips during each quarter. I can't take credit for the idea. I stole it from a King of Queens episode. It keeps the Super Bowl lively. 

Here was the lineup: 1st quarter: Nacho cheese Doritos, 2nd quarter: Lays classic, 3rd quarter: Cheddar & sour cream Ruffles, 4th quarter: Spicy cajun Zapp's. The first quarter went so quick I was still eating Doritos five minutes into the second quarter before I realized my error. 

The Doritos was a big bag I brought from home and shared with the group. I bought the other three bags in the vending machine in the cafeteria. If there was overtime, I was reverting back to the big bag of Doritos. The other three bags were all empty. 

I wasn't able to watch every play, but I did see most of it. This was a fantastic game. I'm putting it third on my Super Bowl list (right behind Pats-Rams but bumping Rams-Titans to fourth). 

If Warner had gotten off a throw at the end and Fitzgerald had got at least a hand on it, I think XLIII could have finished in second. Heck, that bastard might have caught the ball for the win. He catches everything else. I think five people hitting him, though, would jar the bar loose. Still, I would have liked to see it. 

The game ending in a fumble keeps it at No. 3. I didn't like the way the refs handled the call. It's the Super Bowl. It's the final play. Can't we at least have the ref on the field look at it for a few minutes? I would have waited. You know, for him to make sure the final play of the season (in a season with so many bad calls) ended with the correct call. 

I understand that the refs (or whoever it is) up in the booth determined it didn't need to be reviewed because it was clearly a fumble. I'm not so sure. I think Warner's arm was coming forward, and he had a follow-through. The ball also went forward. It was definitely worth a review. 

Within a minute of that play, I got an AIM message, a phone call and a text message asking me why there was no review. I demand a full explanation and investigation. I also blame Michaels and Madden for not thinking twice about the call. 

The game had three memorable plays: 1) Harrison's 100-yard Jarrett Lee (how did they not tackle him?) 2) Fitzgerald's 64-yard TD catch (I liked the overhead shot that showed the middle completely open up.) 3) Holmes' winning TD after Ben threw the ball over three Arizona defenders (Cardinals defense was disappointing in that final drive. Absolutely no pressure).

 

Not sure the reason, but Red Meat and Springsteen were both being talked about in the same conversation. The main line of Born to Run is started, with Red Meat a part of the discussion. Someone (either JRap or Marcus): He was Born to Run out of bounds. 

Speaking of Bruce, that sly dog played four songs. I thought he would only play three and was trying to guess which three. (I did say Born to Run and Glory Days. Tough call, I know.) He's the boss, however, and if he wanted to play a whole damn album, who was going to stop him? 

For much of the game, I couldn't understand how the Cardinals had not thrown a deep pass to Fitzgerald (maybe I missed it). Did they decide it had worked too well in other playoff games? They wanted to show they could move the ball without throwing it up to him?

Me (after a bad Arizona play): Dammit. Throw it deep to Fitz.

Liam: Ya'll on a first-name basis? 

Jelly: You mean a first-name basis with the first part of his last name? 

One final note: How impressive is it that the Steelers' starting wide receivers next season will both be Super Bowl MVPs?

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom taped some episodes of Lost on Sci-Fi in hopes that we could watch the series on there as it goes and use Netflix to watch something else. However, she discovered that Sci-Fi is not airing the episodes in order. "I was like 'What the fuck?' "

Mom is doing a load of laundry. "Shit, I dropped a sock."

TV WEEK IN REVIEW

There wasn't much new on this past week. But this coming week. Well, that's a different story. For Monday, I got the DVR (which records two stations at once) and two VCRs operating at the same time.

I really liked two lines from this past week and got a third stuck in my head from a couple weeks ago.

1) Life on Mars. Back in 1973, the subject of a portable phone is brought up. Michael Imperioli's character says: "Who wants to carry around a telephone?" 

2) Scrubs. J.D. tries to give intern Denise the nickname Jo. 

J.D.: Do you not like that nickname?

Denise: It's kind of butch. I like bangin' dudes. 

3) The Office. Dwight recites a song about the rules every one in his family must learn before the age of 5. "Learn your rules. You better learn your rules. If you don't, you'll be eaten in your sleep." 

PARTING SHOTS

There's talk in the office that the king cake on the counter is delicious. 

Me: Is it plain? 

Bake: No. It's fancy. 

Marcus: It's in a tux. 

We dedicated two pages to the Mardi Gras Marathon. One page was just on the experience of running down Bourbon Street. Yet, we didn't take any pictures of Bourbon. 

Marcus: We didn't have anyone out there shooting Bourbon? 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five Super Bowl commercials this year. 

5) Heroes. 

The one where they square off with football legends. John Elway had super powers!

4) Doritos. 

A combination of the snow globe smashing the vending machine and the crunching of a Dorito chip taking off the hot girl's clothes. 

3) Bud Light.

The first ad of the night when the guy suggests cutting the budget by not buying Bud Light for every meeting. The rest of the employees promptly kick him out. Of the window. 

2) Usama Young and Father.

Usama: And now I'm in the Super Bowl.

Father: It's just a commercial, son.  

1) Coke Zero. 

I thought this was an almost perfect remake of the classic Mean Joe Green commercial, this time with Troy Polamalu. I didn't like the kid in it. I kind of like those Coke Zero guys. 

Note: I also liked the Mr. Potato Head ad, the Monster.com ad that showed the opposite office of the moose head and the one where the animals in the park steal the guy's coke.