I’ve been attempting to preoccupy my brain while July, otherwise known as the month of my birth, and the worst non-football month of the year, passes us by … Bye!
I’ve been meticulously pouring over the annual Phil Steele of knowledge like it’s the GMAT, GRE, LSAT, and MCAT all bundled into one. And my little life depends on knowing who plays MLB for Tennessee.
So these are the days where I can hear the season predictions from the Oracles of West Coast football, like it’s the Berkshire Hathaway annual meeting.
Traditionally this little pre-season activity makes me made me happier than a Macallen 30 neat.
It was all for nothing… Kind of like that last-second play, USC forgot to play against ASU last season. *Hint start at the 13:55 mark.
Like that dear hearts…
While Rich-Rod is never a bore, and I adore Coach Leech’s dating philosophies, piñatas were being hit, punched and smashed, and Sarky made a little snarky, ‘duck you’ Oregon comment, I left with more uhhhhhs than ahhhhs.
Maybe it’s all that D, I’ve been getting. Yes that vitamin D that we Angelinos basque in for 11 months out of the year. Maybe it’s gotten into my silly little head. This felt like a disappointment.
Similar to that tinder date who you thought by their pic looks like a smoke show, only in real life is a solid 5.56789999, or a 6?
Just like that dear hearts.
Bring on the makers mark, let’s not waste the fine malts. I need to put on a pot of bourbon after this.
I certainly hope this is not the PAC’s expectation for the season. Let’s step it up a notch, ok Gents?