Corn 32, Maize 28 - It’s all my fault
So I am sitting around at home watching Michigan beat the crap out of Nebraska in the Alamo Bowl. Except the Cornholers immediately go up 7–0 on a long play. Bad sign.
Obviously, I am cursing the outcome, so I go to the gym. Maybe aggravating the various “Shouldn’t have done THAT” muscle strains from weightlifting on Monday will show the appropriate contrition to the football gods. And it works. Michigan goes up 28–17. The football gods reward my sacrifice.
Then I go home to catch the end.
Fumble. Score.
Fumble. Score.
Crazy last play. Uncalled interference on NU. F***.
Then, 12 Monkeys, because nothing is better to wash away the @#$%@%^%&%&^* of a loss to the Corn Nation than some good time travel paradoxes and nested loops and hallucinations. And S***. “Colonics for everybody!”
on 
on 
Stumble It!
Stumble It!
AAAARGH!
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a game that left a worse taste in my mouth. If Michigan wasn’t shooting themselves in the foot, the refs were doing it for them. El Paso can bite my ass.
San Antonio, but who is counting. It’s all F***ing Texas.
(Be sure to vote –>)
Sorry ’bout that. I’ve always been somewhat geographically confused.