Now we're watching a documentary about pimps (American Pimp, Albert and Allen Hughes, 1999.) I didn't realize that one of the primary tenets of the pimp/ho relationship is that the pimp gets all of the proceeds. I always assumed that the pimp took a percentage, like an agent, but I guess that's not the case. The filmmakers asked several pimps about this, and they seemed very adamant about this point. Apparently I have a lot to learn about the economics of prostitution.

Also, pimps are violent. Note to self: do not cross pimps.

Favorite pimp line: "There's no business like ho business."

- - -

I'm starting to realize that the combination of a blog, a wireless Internet connection, and copious free time is a dangerous thing. It turns an online diary into a kind of pathetic slob play-by-play. I bet you're glad I have a job; otherwise, you'd all be painfully familiar with my late-night cable programming choices. ("Hey, look! Topsy Tail!")

- - -

Now we're having milkshakes. Ooh, my poor stomach.

  We're in the waning hours of The Madness. The evening set of games featured a couple of blowouts and a couple of great finishes. Wisconsin vs. Tulsa was thrilling, and Gonzaga vs. Arizona was one of the best tournament games in recent memory.

The games are over for today, and we're into the groggy Saturday evening. I'm feeling the pain of all the crap I've eaten since Thursday, and I'm dreading going back to the real world. I alternate between wanting to go nuts while I still can and wanting to crawling into bed and start the convalescence as soon as possible. I'm all confused. I ate a few Tums to help my stomach ache, and then ten minutes later I was trying to eat an entire Ding Dong in one bite. (Result: mouth not big enough.)

The compromise plan appears to be watching SNL on the small TV (Tina Fey is kind of hot) and watching something called "Slamball" on the big TV. Slamball is like basketball, but the floor in front of the hoop isn't a floor, it's a bunch of trampolines. Every shot features a guy jumping 12 feet in the air off of the trampoline and doing a highly improbable dunk or, alternatively, getting clobbered by a defender who is also 12 feet in the air. There also seems to be a liberal amount of fighting. Call it basketball plus hockey. With trampolines. I think this is on TNN, so tune in if you don't believe me.

I'm leaving for the airport at 9 AM tomorrow, which is going to come very early since I don't predict that I will be going to bed any time soon. I need a few more hours to enjoy my freedom until I have to return to the harsh world of fixed-waist pants.

  Notre Dame is putting the hurt on Illinois; it's 47-34 at halftime. There's only one game going on at the moment, which is hard to adjust to after the last two days of having no fewer than four games happening at one time.

In other news, I was still hungry after the pizza rolls, so when I saw Jutt come into the living room with some waffles I knew it was time for Second Breakfast. We worked out a great system: when someone got up to get their waffles out of the toaster, he put in two more for the other guy. It was highly efficient. (This is what happens when you unleash two engineers on the problem of being lazy.) Just for Sundry, here's a picture of our margarine (5 lb.) and syrup (1 gallon) supply.




Now I hear the signature sound of the blender coming from the kitchen, which can only mean that we're having milkshakes. And I think Jutt might be making chili. So full...

Oh, I also want to say hi to Craig, who is following along at home. I got your message, but my phone has been off. Now it's out of batteries. Go Hoosiers!

  Nothing sums up The Madness better than the following phrase: pizza rolls for breakfast.

  So tired. It's 3:30 AM here, and I just lost $10 at poker. There were seven of us playing for a couple of hours (including C., just back from a strip club and flush with ones) and I ended up about even. Then a bunch of people left and it was just me, Mike Jutt and Mike D. playing No Limit Texas Hold 'Em. I was up five bucks until the last hand when Mike D. tried to buy the pot, and I decided wouldn't let him. I kept re-raising until he went all in. I went all in too, thinking he had nothing. I was right, but his nothing beat my nothing. Oh well; at a total expenditure of plane ticket plus $10 in poker losses, this is still the cheapest trip I've taken in a while.

Must sleep. Until tomorrow...

  The first round of the tournament is complete. The evening games had some amazing finishes. Indiana won by 3, Butler upset Mississippi State on a last-second shot, and Maryland pulled out a victory over UNC-Wilmington on a sprawling, one-footed, fadeaway three-point prayer with no time on the clock. It was a true March Madness finish. This is why we watch!

  Everyone at The Madness but me and one other person went to Purdue, and they want me to note that their Boilermakers have just scored a stunning 24-point win over LSU. (They were as surprised as everyone else.) I'm an Indiana University fan, so we'll see if they can be as successful when they play Alabama tonight.

The Big Ten is now 3-0!

  I want to state for the record that I have personally consumed an entire can of Pringles since my last post.

Here's a description of our audiovisual setup here at Madness Central. The center of the system is a 55-inch widescreen television connected to a Tivo, DSS satellite feed, Playstation 2, and DVD player. We have a second satellite feed going to a 20" TV next to the main set. This allows us to watch basketball and CNN at the same time, or watch basketball and play Playstation, or watch two games at the same time, etc. We have another 27" TV in the back of the room with another Playstation 2, which is dedicated to full-time video games. We also have a wireless network in the house and three laptops for blogging, war updates, etc. In short, it's male gadget heaven.

Here are some pictures:



Mr. Jutt enjoys two basketball games at the same time.




Matt mans the 24-hour dedicated gaming station.




No one will admit to bringing the mini-TV that's in the bathroom,
but it comes in handy in the middle of a close game.




What do you need for The Madness besides a lot of TVs? How about a car full of food?




Here's the remainder of our stash of cheap-ass lemon cookies. Each
package contains five dozen cookies. (Another package has been eaten
since this picture was taken.)



Insane Mascot Update: Both team mascots in the Oregon vs. Utah game (a giant duck and a giant falcon) have just been ejected for fighting.

  There's a school called St. Joe's in the tournament. Their mascot is a Hawk, so they have a guy in a hawk costume in the arena to cheer on the team. The school apparently has a rule that once the game starts, the guy in the hawk costume has to flap his arms the entire time. He can't stop until the game is over. St. Joe's is playing Auburn at the moment, and the game has just gone into overtime. The hawk is still flapping, but he appears to be slowing down. We're not sure if he's going to survive.

We're rooting for double overtime.

Speaking of not surviving, I forgot to tell you about our food supplies. Yesterday after I arrived, Mike Jutt, Mike D. and I went to Sam's Club (the midwest equivalent of Costco) to stock up. We filled two giant carts and spent over $300. Here is what we bought:

6-can pack of Pringles (34.5 oz. total) 5 lb. tub of Country Crock 6.5 lb. bag of ground beef 60 frozen waffles 1 gallon jug of Mrs. Butterworth's pancake syrup 120 frozen beef taquitos 5 lb. bag of frozen buffalo wings 2.75 lb. bag of frozen popcorn chicken 4 lb. bottle of salsa Box of 12 Oatmeal Creme Pies Orange Juice (two 96 oz. jugs) Case of tomato paste (12 x 6 oz. cans) 13.5 lbs. of frozen mozzarella sticks 8.5 lbs. of marinara sauce 106 oz. can of nacho cheese 3 lb. of bacon Case of Lipton Brisk Iced Tea (24 cans) 140 frozen pizza rolls 36 Ice Cream Sandwiches 80 frozen Mini Corn Dogs Hostess Ding Dongs Jumbo pack (24 Count) Hostess Cupcakes Jumbo Pack (24 count) 6lb. bag of frozen meatballs 12 two-liter bottles of Coke 4 two-liter bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper 120 oz. Ketchup (120 oz.) 4 lb. Grape Jelly 5 quarts Vanilla Ice Cream 84 oz. Tub of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough 6 lb. box Tortilla Chips 24 pack Welch's mini juice bottles 600 cheap-ass lemon sandwich cookies (10 five-dozen cookie bags) Breakfast cereal variety pack (32 mini boxes) 2 gallons of Milk Super size bag of Doritos (25 oz) Super size bag of Munchies (25 oz) Super size bag of salsa-flavored chips (20 oz) 3 lb. bag of Check Mix Bottled water (32 count) 5 lb. bag of Shredded Cheddar Cheese 11 frozen pizzas 4 lb. tub of peppermint patties Bag of BBQ chips (12 oz)

We've consumed a fair amount of food already - the BBQ chips are gone, we've eaten three frozen pizzas, and we've gone through 10 dozen cheap-ass lemon cremes - but we've got a long way to go. I'll keep you updated.

It's going to be a miracle if we live through the weekend.

  We're about 3/4 of the way through the first day of games. There have been lots of scream-inducing finishes that are the hallmark of March Madness: Cal - NC State, Missouri - Southern Illinois, etc.

I should take a moment to tell you about my picks. We run a pool in which everyone can submit their predictions of who is going to win each game in the tournament. It's $5 an entry; the winner takes 75% of the pot, the runner-up takes 25%. We have a complicated scoring system in which each game is weighted by the seed of the winner and multiplied by an increasing constant value for each round, blah blah blah.

These details are unimportant, because I am not in danger of winning any money. My picks are terrible. I filled them out in 5 minutes on the plane. I know nothing about college basketball. I am in serious danger of losing to The Monkey.

I suppose I should probably tell you about The Monkey, too.

A few years ago I found myself in a very similar situation: flying to the Midwest for March Madness, filling out my picks on the plane, and realizing that I was basically choosing teams at random. Then I got to wondering what would happen if someone did make picks at random. To put it differently, what would happen if a monkey were to choose the winners?

The Monkey was born. Every year I make a set of random picks and enter it into the pool under The Monkey's name. The Monkey is the benchmark by which all of the pool participants are judged. Losing to The Monkey is the ultimate in humiliation.

Usually The Monkey does very poorly. Two years ago, however, The Monkey came within 1 point of winning it all. The Monkey earned me $40 that year. (I felt so guilty that I spent the money on children's books for the pool organizer's daughter.)

This year The Monkey has some extremely bold picks. It's unlikely that The Monkey is going to win anything. However, I must point out that I am currently only beating The Monkey by one game. I'll keep you posted.

For those who care, my Final Four teams are: Kentucky, Arizona, Florida, Syracuse and Syracuse. The Monkey's Final Four teams are: Dayton, Memphis, Stanford, ETSU. (That's right, ETSU.)

  Location: Madness Central, Indianapolis, IN
Time: 10:15 AM EST

I have arrived. The flight to Indianapolis was uneventful, unless you count the time the guy in front of me cranked his chair back into my knees an "event", which I do, so I guess I shouldn't have said it was uneventful.

That sentence is a testament to how tired I am.

I arrived safely, however, so that's good. And all evidence seems to indicate that United Airlines was in business for the entire duration of my flight, so that's an added bonus.

The Madness is just about ready to begin. I am currently sitting in a recliner in front of a 50" HDTV that is hooked up to DSS and a Tivo, and I am typing this entry over a wireless network connection. Pretty soon we're going to go to the store and buy food, and that's when the craziness will begin.

Mike D., this year's Madness host, just received a call from one of his friends who is coming over soon. This will be his friend's first Madness. This friend had the audacity to ask if his wife could come. He clearly does not know that no women are allowed at the Madness. This is not a sexist policy designed to exclude women because we don't like them. We like women a lot, in fact. We designed this policy precisely because we like women and we want to protect them from the horrors of the Madness.

"These Madness rookies," Mike D. lamented as he hung up the phone. "They're probably going to show up wearing fixed-waist pants."

Fixed-waist pants go against everything March Madness stands for. Trust me, ladies, you would not want to be here.

  Location: O'Hare International Airport, Chicago
Time: 6:something AM CST. I'm not sure exactly; I left my watch at home.

OK, it's official: I can't sleep on airplanes. I've never been able to sleep on airplanes before, but I'd chalked it up to the fact that I usually fly during the day. I figured that a night flight would be different. Sadly, it wasn't. I think I got about 55 minutes of total sleep, taken in 10 minute increments. The guy next to me was asleep before the plane even took off. Bastard.

I did have a couple of amusing skirmishes with airline philosophy, however. I arrived about 2 hours early and proceeded to the self-service computers to check in. I cliked the button to change my seats (I like the aisle), and I noticed that there were no seats available on my flight from Seattle to Chicago. In fact, I didn't even have a seat assigned to me at all! My throat immediately began to clench with that familiar the-airline-screwed-you-again panic, and I got the attention of the attendant.

"Excuse me, but it says that I don't have a seat," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, there aren't any left," she said, tapping away at her own computer. She was beating me at the nonchalant game.

"Yeah, but..." I waggled my e-ticket itinerary printout to indicate that I had purchased a ticket for the flight, which typically entitles one to a seat on the airplane.

"The flight is oversold," she said. "They'll assign you a seat at the gate. There are always a few people who don't show up."

I know all about overselling flights. It's one of my most hated airline policies. I wasn't letting her off the hook that easily.

"But what if everyone shows up?" I pressed.

"That never happens. If it does, they ask for volunteers."

The room shimmered as the forces of logic and airline policy battled for control of reality.

I was so shocked by the ease and celerity with which this woman could contradict herself that I must have made a sour face, which she took for a look of displeasure. She sighed and decided to take pity on me.

"Let me see your ticket," she said. "I can assign you a middle seat."

Space and time was rocked yet again. Hadn't she just told me that there weren't any seats available? I decided to shut up and play along.

"You don't have anything on the aisle?" I asked innocently.

"No, sorry. You can ask at the gate, though."

Ask I did, and just before boarding started they called my name and gave me a new seat assignment: 6C. I was relieved to have an aisle seat for the long trip to Chicago. Then the thought struck me: what if that was a bulkhead row? I hate the bulkhead seats, because there's no leg room. Most smaller planes have three or four rows of first class, so row 6 should be well into the main section of coach. I boarded the plane and saw that I'd been right: the first class section consisted of Rows 1, 2, and 3, which means that the first coach row is Row...6? I did a double take. There were no Rows 4 and 5 - they skipped straight from 3 to 6!

I racked my brain trying to come up with any possible reason to do this. To make it look like the plane has more rows? To make the first class passengers feel like they have more of a buffer? "Look, Mr. Vanderbilt - you've got two whole rows of empty seats behind you!" In the end I just chalked it up to typical airline logic: doing things backwards just because they can.

As it turns out, the bulkhead row on this particular plane had a ton of legroom - I could even stick my feet underneath the seat of the first-class person in front of me. (Take that, Mr. Vanderbilt!) This didn't do much to help me sleep, of course, but at least I wasn't whacking my knees the whole time.

- - -
So now I'm tired. And disappointed, because I need a watch, and I found one I want at the watch store in the airport, but the store is not open. I have a real problem with that. My personal feeling is that if I can be in the airport at any ungodly hour of the day or night, there should be someone there to sell me things. That's the American way of life, and shouldn't we be protecting that in these times of strife? After all, if I am denied the ability to purchase a stylish European wristwatch, then the terrorists win. Or the Iraquis. Or whoever is currently busting up our way of life. I'm not quite sure who that is anymore.

  Current Location: Bellevue, WA
So. A war has broken out, there's a mystery disease going around that's being trasmitted by air travelers, and the airline I'm flying has stated that they could cease operations at any moment, possibly while I'm on the plane in that miniature bathroom. And yet I'm still going on my trip. Why? Because I'm an idiot. It should be obvious that I'm an idiot given the fact that I chose to patronize commercial air travel in the first place. In for a penny, in for a pound, that's what I say.

I'm leaving for the airport in an hour, and there's no telling where my next post will be from. I'm flying to Chicago and then to Indianapolis, so I could be speaking to you next from any point in between here and there. I'm coming back on Sunday morning. If you hear about United shutting down between now and then, that loud "D'oh!" you hear from Middle America will be me.

I'm also working on some thoughts about the whole Iraq situation, but too much of my brain is currently taken up with worrying about SARS, decapitation strikes, and airport traffic to be able to write anything coherent. I'll post it when it's in a more readable state.

  I originally had something different in mind for today's post, but I thought I should take a minute to address the crisis that I'm sure is on everyone's mind: how could the NCAA selection committee put Kentucky and Arizona on the same side of the bracket? They're the two best teams in the country, and now there's no chance that they'll meet in the finals!

I'm speaking, of course, about the NCAA college basketball tournament. (Why, what crisis were you thinking of?) In spite of this harrowing turn of events, I am pressing on with my plans to fly to Indianapolis to celebrate March Madness.

For the uninitated, every March the NCAA holds a tournament in which the top 65 college basketball teams play for the national championship. The best part of the tournament by far is the first two rounds, which are played over one long weekend. Every year some friends of mine from home hold a four-day March Madness party on this weekend - just several red-blooded American males taking part in the ancient tradition of being complete slobs. We sit around watching basketball, playing video games, soldiering through all-night poker sessions, and eating junk food. When I say that we "eat junk food", I mean that's all we eat. One year we kept track of the nutrition information for the entire weekend, and the amount of fat we ate had to be measured in kilograms. The last time I went I had to secretly smuggle in some vitamins; if I'd been caught I would have been subjected to severe punishment. Health is not one of the primary considerations at March Madness. Think "Mojo the Helper Monkey" and you're on the right track.

There may be some of you out there who are interested or even intrigued by this idea. The vast majority of you, however, are probably horrified, and rightfully so. In an attempt to explain March Madness to the general public and document the event for the annals of freak science, I am going to attempt to blog my way through the weekend. I cannot promise anything, since laziness is one of the main tenets of March Madness. (One year someone suggested that we go outside and actually play basketball in addition to watching it. He was not invited back.) However, I will do my best to occasionally attain an upright position long enough to tap out a few semi-coherent phrases.

I'm leaving on Wednesday night, so this will probably be my last post until the Madness starts on Thursday. Everyone stay safe.



PRAY FOR MOJO.