Busted

So this is my bracket. It was rough year.

I could deal with the 3rd round loss of Notre Dame, and even Duke's incredibly unusual inability to make it past that Sweet Sixteen status. It was watching Jimmer and the Cougs fall apart in overtime against Florida that had me on the floor, moaning in despair. I mourned. I really did.

I love marathon sports. I'm a fair-weather observer through most of the year. But come March Madness, or the Olympics, or the World Cup, and I can be found parked on my couch for weeks at a time, shouting at crooked refs and dirty participants. It's like I become that obnoxious guy sitting in your section at every sporting event you've been to, ever.

I don't know that I can watch the finals this year without having some sort of emotional breakdown when I remember how it should be Jimmer on that court, but I'll do my best. For the game.

Nintendo Is Always Right

I made a happy discovery this week. By clicking here, you can waste countless hours of your life on the only video game I ever grew to love. I have lovely memories of car rides to Grandma's house glued to my little Gameboy Color screen, playing DKC until my head hurt.

I don't know why I liked it so much. It was challenging, but not so much that I couldn't beat it. It had miserable birds that shot rocks out of their mouth, and giant bees that buzzed over the gaps between two canyon walls, and stupid hamsters that spun atop massive stone wheels, prepared to squash poor Donkey and Diddy Kong. All stuff that should have annoyed and exhausted my little kid brain, but I played it anyway.

I have very few distinct memories of my life before I was five, but I do remember Donkey Kong Country. I remember, very clearly, watching my brother and a family friend struggling to beat one of the water levels on the Super Nintendo version one night. That friend passed away in a motorcycle accident not long after that. Whenever I get to those ridiculously difficult water levels (those little blue fish cause that much pain to a freaking gorilla? please), I think of Travis.

So much for Halo, Call of Duty, or Fallout (whatever that is). I stick to the simple, side-scrolling, double-bouncing magic of Donkey Kong Country.

Florida Oranges Are Superior To California Oranges

I had a discussion with my roommate Megan today about the superiority of Florida produce to that of California, particularly oranges. BYU's signature Creamery orange juice is made from "100% Florida Oranges" according to its label, despite its obvious proximity to the West Coast. I have always been aware of the excellence of Florida oranges, but Megan claims my beliefs are solely based on pride. So, straight outta ebtchef.com:

"California oranges are known for their good looks and Florida oranges are known for their sweet juice."

So, if you're really that vain, enjoy your California oranges. They will look fabulous as a precious center piece on you white marble table. I will happily take my sweet, superior, and perhaps a little mishapen Florida oranges.