Being a world-famous and widely-respected blogger, I find it necessary, like most media members, to make the news about ME. Therefore, my self-serving nature has played a catalytic role in providing you, uncaring reader, a handy time line of my last few days. Though if my Twitter feed is indicative (follow me!), some of you could maybe care. Plus, I’m sure your days were similar, so don’t act all high and mighty (except you, commenter named “high and mighty).
Friday midday: Gillispie’s firing coupled with Donovan rumors begin to circulate. Brain: locked-down.
Friday afternoon: Hear of Donovan’s impending agreement. Realize that it’s coming from a local Fox station in Orlando. Guard optimism.
Friday evening: Forced, by the evil hand of academia, to attend the ballet. When not checking text messages, eyes fixated to most unsightly male bulges. They really need to make some enhancements in both the Lycra and cod piece industries—make a note to send some emails. Feelings of inadequacy resurface.
Saturday morning: Watch Gillispie’s send-off; wonder why it looked like a wedding reception without cake, but still consistent due to the abundance of fake happiness.
Saturday evening: Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.
Sunday: Louisville loses. Praise be His name. Exhale.
Sunday evening: Calipari rumblings begin to surface. Log on to message boards for three straight days and upwards of 15,000 refreshes. Eating, sleeping, and showering (in that order) now become secondary.
Sunday evening through Wednesday morning (general): World events probably occur (still not confirmed).
Monday: Walk past a kid that looks exactly—exactly—like Tom Brady. Focus shifts for 1/4 of a nanosecond to his butt-chin. Calipari thoughts quickly resume.
Monday afternoon: Watch Fox affiliate news cast—on full volume—in the school library. Surrounding students NOT PLEASED. Become the official “guy” who sends the affirmitive text. Gun: jumped.
Monday evening through Tuesday morning: Watch The Door.
Tuesday afternoon: Watch The Gate.
Tuesday night: Watch The Plane.
Wednesday morning: Euphoria, quickly tempered by the realization that I have been the most worthless human being on the planet for almost a week.
There you go, kids. No need to further romantacize what has transpired—Tomlin and others have succeeded in doing so already. I merely thought I’d share with you the zombie-like state that I’d succumbed to over the last five days. People probably talked to me, and I’d like to apologize to all of them for being so rude.
Seriously though, I wasn’t really at fault. You guys just aren’t this awesome.