The fever

Basketball fever has swept the men in Chattanooga. I love basketball, I really do. BUT after going to games all day and all night and then going to hang out with friends, you'd think there'd be something else to talk about. Apparently, that's not the case.

I worked late last night, but when I got off, I met up with Scott and Jim and a slew of folks who shall remain nameless. I sat there with a bunch of guys and one girl, a friend's girlfriend, who apparently felt about as into the conversation as I was based on more than a few eye rolls. Practically the entire conversation was basketball ... players, technique, coaching, recruits, red shirts, injuries, scores, etc. Oh, but at one point the conversation did shift to who should be drunk-dialed. Steve Spurrier topped the list, and I swear to God - we had his number. Luckily, those with the power to actually dial that number had enough sense to realize that Mr. Spurrier would probably be pretty upset picking up the phone at 2 a.m. and hearing a bunch of crazy folks at a bar on the other end of the line.

At any rate, after CBC, we headed over to the Pickle Barrel to finish off the night. There, I learned that I like Amber Bock, which was surprising.

Now, here it is nearly 9 a.m., and I'm wide awake after going to sleep sometime after 4 a.m. Sometimes I just don't get it. I see a nap in my not-so-distant future.

DAYS UNTIL COSTELLO: 5