Diagnosis Doctor? Looks like a case of the Mondays.....

Our apartment smells. I thought I caught a whiff of something putrid this morning, but after Pat's nose turned up nothing, I figured I was catching some phantom smells. But alas, when I returned from class I was greeted by a wave of stench. Using my keen detective skills I am diagnosing the source of the odor as the basement. Who would of thought that when your toilet overflows, the resulting water will smell? Sucks for us, sucks more for Pat. Focusing first haduken of rage at Alpha Management. If they had fixed our porcelain throne two months ago when we first called, our dwelling wouldn't reek of foot and peepee.

Next haduken of rage is aimed at Emerson College. I wake up a whole five minutes early to register for classes today only to find that the system won't let me. I send a steaming e-mail (like shit steaming not sexy steaming) to the registrar office and peace to class. When I return I have a message saying their bad and that everything should be cool now. Sweet, thanks Emerson. But wait, now one of the classes I wanted was full. Fuck you Emerson. I go to sign up for writing the prime time drama (sweet), and wtf its for writing majors only? Same with writing comedy for tv? and the feature workshop? The hell? I can take basic tv writing and feature writing, but I can't take the next step? So, off goes another steamshot to Emerson courtesy of bryan_roy@emerson.edu. Fuck them...

Haduken the third is targeted at the cold. Not the temperature, the virus. Its shit. Seriously one of the most annoying things on the planet, rivaling the internet not working and the MBTA (an entry for a later date). Also a lesser haduken, possibly a Dragon Punch, towards Pat for bringing said virus into the house.

Alas, every shitty Monday has to be spawned from a Sunday, and today was no exception. Sunday meant a New England sports day, with the Revolution (soccer?) and the Pats both playing some ball. Truely a day for Mr. Kraft. I was too hung-over (class 5 hangover more on this at a later date) to catch the revs game. Whatever, a) its American soccer (see: garbage) and b) they lost. What a bunch of fucking tools. Can't they like channel the winning spirit of New England and just anihilate their opponents? Couldn't Bob Kraft have convinced Tom Brady to play? I mean he's good at everything (football, fucking chicks and not sticking around for the kid and not having said chick mind, cleft chins) he must be good at soccer. Plus, not like the Pats needed a full strength Brady for their game later that night.

Moving on to the Pats game... wow. It was like watching someone play Madden against their girlfriend. Fourth and one... up by 30... I'll go for it, bitch doesn't know what she's doing anyway. I could see the look in the Bills eyes, the same look as someone who is getting plastered in Madden. I swear I saw Losman mouth that using Moss was cheating. Part of me misses watching the Pats come through in the clutch, the larger part of me loves watching the madness of Coach Bill in full effect. Belichick reminds of Dr. Doom these days. Instead of Reed Richards fucking up Doom's experiment and scaring his face, the NFL called Bill a cheater. Now Belichick is unleashing his full force against the Fantastic Four that is the NFL. That switch in Belichick's brain that kept him from doing crazy things snapped off after spygate. Now his rage is running free. All must bow before Doom!