The Lions finally hired Mike Martz today. Wait, no they didn't, he's taking the year off. Wait, he's back. Nevermind they can't agree on money/philosophy so he's leaving. Who's next Hue Jackson? Tom Moore? O.K. here comes the announcement. The Lions new O-coordinator is.............Mike Martz. What? This Mike Martz nonsense has made me institute a new rule here at MTMO. I will never write about the most dysfunctional team in the NFL trying to hire the most sensitive/insane assistant coach in the NFL 3 times over the course of two weeks. I can't think of any other time I will need to enforce this rule unless the Arizona Cardinals attempt to hire Jerry Glanville, but I'm just throwing it out there. Seriously though, no more writing about the Lions until at least the NFL draft.
So I promised to update today barring a complete emotional/physical/mental breakdown caused by writing my research paper. Well here I am updating, so you must be going "Hey, alright everything turned out fine. Right." Wrong! Here's the rundown of my night.
12 A.M. halfway done
1 A.M. still halfway because I can't formulate a rule.
2 A.M. check out my myspace profile and spend the next hour randomly clicking on other profiles
3 A.M. Here's the mental breakdown. I can't think, I can't write, cases are running together.
5 A.M. I'm wondering what happened to 4 A.M. things are being thrown around the apartment, and I'm checking wayne states website for the process of disenrolling. I see it's too late to get my money back so I get back to working. This constitutes the emotional breakdown.
6 A.M. I actually start getting work done, my brains finally functioning, credit goes to Pizza Rolls and MTV showing videos again because nothing gets my morning going like a little Daddy Yankee.
8 A.M. Paper's finished, I stagger over to the school to turn it in, come back to my apartment and crash. Thereby completing the breakdown trifecta that won't be on ESPN.
Yet here I am tonight posting, now thats dedication.......sort of.
I'm not going to write about the game because I couldn't tell you anything you don't already know. The only significant event from a rather boring game is that I was able to taste death in a can and it's name is Stroh's.
So my Super Bowl weekend consisted of me and my old room mate Mike walking the 2.1 miles downtown (I counted) to attend Winter Blast in perfect weather. You know when it's cold enough to be snowing but warm enough get soaking wet. Lovely. Anyways we got to Campus Martius where the activities were taking place and tried to cram into one of the many tents that had been set up to get out of the elements. Unfortunately we were two of only 50,000 people who had the same idea, so we decided to head over to Greektown to do some gambling. Being the high rollers we are, me and Mike immediately looked for the 5 dollar blackjack table. They were easy to find because we followed the cursing, B.O. and faded Greg Lloyd/Barry Foster jerseys (no not this Barry Foster). So me and Mike, sorry.........Mike and I, sit at a table and immediately start winning hand after hand going from 50 dollars to about 200 in a matter of minutes. Everyone at the table is winning and the world record for awkward high fives by white guys is shattered. My friend Mike also catches the eye of a couple of hit out nasty 45 year old bar flies, from Pittsburgh. They were probably only 25 but years of chain smoking and hard living had accelerated the aging process 2:1. So after a while Mike started getting distracted from the "Mikey" cheers and grabass he was being subjected to and we decided to take off. To my dismay he didn't go home with either of them....but I digress. After leaving the casino we walked past the Penthouse party and a bum (who may have been Ickey Woods) taking a crap in the doorway of a bar, which I frantically tried to take a picture of but I couldnt work my camera because my fingers were refusing to work properly in sub zero temperatures. Naturally we celebrated our winnings by playing two hours of Dr. Mario and watching Blade Runner. .........Like I said we're high rollers.