Thursday. The scene: We are casually watching the first round of the NCAA Tournament while staring at copies of the picks we made on our pool.

LAUREN:
So, I was talking to my coworker today, and he totally picked Kansas to win the tournament. And I was saying how stupid that was, because everyone knows that Kansas won't win because they're the biggest chokers ever and they fuck it up every year, and...

JESSICA:
I PICKED KANSAS TO WIN, YOU FAT WHORE!

LAUREN:
No you did NOT pick Kansas. Look, you picked Kentucky.

JESSICA:
OH, FINE, YOU... lovely, skinny whore. Um, sorry.

Friday. The scene: Maryland, a No. 6 seed, is playing underdog UNC-Wilmington. Lauren and Heather are in the top half of their pool standings, and are highly excitable at this point. CBS is about to switch to the game.

LAUREN:
I accidentally picked UNC-Wilmington. Why the fuck did I do that?

HEATHER:
(in a consoling tone)
That's a good pick. I almost picked that, actually. Don't feel bad about it.

LAUREN:
Holy shit! It's a one-point game! Holy shit!

CARRIE:
Wait, so Heather, you picked Maryland?

HEATHER:
Yes, unfuckingfortunately. God DAMMIT. Bitches! What a bunch of knobholes.

LAUREN:
I suddenly feel so great. This was a great pick.

HEATHER:
GET THAT REBOUND! God dammit, what is that?

LAUREN:
WOOOO, two for my team! Wilmington rules.

HEATHER:
They let UNC-Assington score?!?!? What the HELL is this? I am LOSING!

LAUREN:
What an upset! This rocks! We're up by one!

HEATHER:
Mother of suck!

CARRIE:
Is this going to get ugly?

HEATHER:
Time is running out, asswipes. FOUL THAT MAN, you suckmaggots!

LAUREN:
Oh shit, oh shit, come ON. Okay, they fouled him. Hit your shot, lovebone! This is AWESOME! I can't believe I'm going to win this game!

HEATHER:
Aaaaaaaah, he bricked it! He bricked it!

LAUREN:
GET THAT GODDAMN REBOUND! They didn't! This is CRAPPY. I can't believe I might lose this game.

CARRIE:
You're still up by one.

HEATHER:
But there's only three seconds left. This is never going to happen. There's not enough time. COME ON, MARYLAND.

LAUREN:
DON'T LET THEM SCORE, MOTHERFUCKERS!

CARRIE:
Oh my God. He's going to shoot.

HEATHER:
Oh my GOD, that's the three-point line. SHOOOOOOOOT!

LAUREN:
He's not going to do it! There's only one second left!

(The Maryland player shoots with just one second left; it goes in as the clock runs out and Maryland wins.)

LAUREN:
NOOO! What the FUCK. What the HELL was that?

HEATHER:
Oh, YEAH, baby, that was beautiful! I can't believe that happened! Oh YEAH.

(Heather does a frightening impromptu gloating dance.)

CARRIE:
Is that... that's not the Cabbage Patch...

HEATHER:
It's the "Suck on THAT, biznitches" Patch.

CARRIE:
Oh, right. I misread the subtle differences.

LAUREN:
Those assholes. I truly hate people. God, I don't know if I can go through that again.

Saturday afternoon. The scene: No. 13 Tulsa is playing No. 5 Wisconsin. Jessica has chosen the Badgers, while Lauren has Tulsa; I have neither team, as I picked Weber State, which sadly bit the whore's ass in the first round. So I am cheering for Jif peanut butter. Anyway, Tulsa made a huge comeback early in the second half and led the rest of the way before ceding points in the last three minutes. Tulsa is up by two when CBS joins the game.

LAUREN:
How the FUCK do you have a huge lead and just LOSE it like that?

JESSICA:
Um, I sort of need Wisconsin to win, actually.

LAUREN:
BLOCK THE SHOT, DICKSMACK!

HEATHER:
Oooh, two for Wisconsin.

LAUREN:
OH COME ON, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, YOU COCKSUCKERS? JESUS CHRIST, WHY DON'T YOU JUST GIVE THEM THE BALL AND WALK AWAY?

JESSICA:
Um... yay, though, also.

HEATHER:
"Tulsa" backwards is "a slut."

LAUREN:
Are you implying something?

HEATHER:
No. I'm frightened.

JESSICA:
Oh, dammit. Tulsa just scored.

LAUREN:
YES! NICE! Okay, we're back. There's only 48 seconds left. Now PLAY SOME DEFENSE, whores!

HEATHER:
This isn't going to happen. There's not enough time left. We're down to 12 seconds.

JESSICA:
This stinks.

LAUREN:
YES! All my Sweet Sixteen teams are still alive! YES!

(Wisconsin scores a beautiful three-pointer to take the lead by one point with a few seconds left.)

LAUREN:
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NO NO NO NO! NOOOOOOOO!

JESSICA:
Yes! Sweet JESUS, thank you!

HEATHER:
Holy shit, that's the second time this has happened to Lauren in two days.

LAUREN:
THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING TO ME.

JESSICA:
Wisconsin wins! YES. I so needed that.

LAUREN:
THAT WAS A HUGE FUCKING PILE OF SHIT, people! SHIT! IN A PILE!

JESSICA:
Except, yay!

Later Saturday afternoon. The scene: No. 1 Arizona, who Jessica picked to win two more games and Lauren has winning the entire thing, is locked in a good game against ninth-seeded Gonzaga. I picked Arizona to win in this round, but I have them losing in the next one to a team that got knocked out already, so I'm hosed either way and I am having way more fun watching my friends flip their respective shits.

LAUREN AND JESSICA:
Come ON, YOU FAT WHORES!

(The phone rings.)

HEATHER:
It's Dan. Hi, Dan! Lauren and Jessica are unable to breathe.

LAUREN:
PUT THE FUCKING BALL IN THE BASKET, SUCKASSES!

JESSICA:
Holy shit, I can't believe how much this sucks.

HEATHER:
This is so sad. This would be the third major problem for Lauren in two days. She might actually pass out in a second.

DAN:
That's tragic.

HEATHER:
Seriously, she just stood up to scream and almost fell over.

LAUREN:
I canNOT deal with this. What is fucking WRONG with Arizona?

DAN:
Wow, I could totally hear that.

HEATHER:
I'm a little worried about how Lauren's coping with all this. She's taking it kind of personally, like God hates her or something.

LAUREN:
Herpes, I can handle. Fine. But three last-second losses in the tournament is crossing the FUCKING line.

JESSICA:
I'm going to cry, if I don't die first.

(The game goes into overtime.)

LAUREN:
I need some air. I can't be here right now.

HEATHER:
Wait, come back, they're starting again. (To Dan) Lauren almost heaved herself off the balcony in protest.

JESSICA:
I would have grabbed her ankles... so that she'd take me over with her. This FUCKING BITES.

LAUREN:
OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK WAS THAT, YOU FUCKS?

HEATHER:
(To Dan)
Lauren is displeased with the quality of that shot.

DAN:
Yeah, I heard her! Is your phone that good?

HEATHER:
No, my roommate is that filed with murderous rage.

LAUREN:
THEY FUCKING DID IT AGAIN! WHAT THE GODDAMN FUCK SHIT BASKETBALL IS THIS? SHIT! I CAN'T SEE! SHIT!

HEATHER:
(To Dan)
Lauren feels that the last play was deficient.

DAN:
Gonzaga's going to shoot a three-pointer to get to double-overtime.

(Gonzaga shoots a three-pointer to get to double-overtime.)

DAN:
I RULE. Seriously, I'm great.

HEATHER:
Dan wants you to know that he called that shot, and he rules.

LAUREN:
He rules THE ASS OF HELL, that bitch!

HEATHER:
Um, Dan, Lauren says... you're pretty.

DAN:
No, what did she really say?

HEATHER:
Er, Lauren wants you to know that, while she appreciates your prescience, she thinks your opinion of your skills is greatly inflated.

DAN:
What?

HEATHER:
You rule only the thorny, odorous underbelly of Satan's bum, more or less.

DAN:
Okay, that's more what I expected.

HEATHER:
She's sitting on the couch covering her face with a pillow.

DAN:
Take a picture of that. I need to see that picture.

HEATHER:
Hee. That picture would look great

LAUREN:
(Flips me off with angry eyes) It would look like THIS!

(The game resumes and the lead changes frequently, with only a point in it each time.)

JESSICA:
I need to lie down.

LAUREN:
I can't breathe. (Curls up on the carpet) I can't breathe.

HEATHER:
(To Dan)
There is a fetus on my floor.

DAN:
What was what?

HEATHER:
Lauren went fetal.

DAN:
Is she still in danger of exploding?

HEATHER:
Let's put it this way: Her shirt is pink, and right now her face matches it.

JESSICA:
(Joining Lauren on the floor)
Maybe if we genuflect, like the TV is Mecca or something.

LAUREN:
(Sitting up brightly)
You mean we should bow down and chant?

JESSICA:
YES. That's BRILL, because that's GOT to have some pull with some higher power out there.

HEATHER:
I wonder how God is doing in his pool. I bet he picked Notre Dame to win, unlike those suckmonkeys at Sports Illustrated.

LAUREN:
OH MY GOD.

JESSICA:
Five seconds left! We're going to win! We're going to win!

LAUREN:
OHFUCKSHITPANTSBALLSDAMNCRAPSHIT! Don't let them shoot! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

HEATHER:
He missed it! Why did he go for the three when all he needed was two? What an idiot!

DAN:
That guy had a clean pass for an easy lay-up, too. Oh, he is a sad, sad guy.

LAUREN:
YES! WE WIN! THAT GUY IS NEVER GETTING LAID AGAIN! WE WIN! WIIIIIIIIN.

JESSICA:
I need a massage. I can't move.

HEATHER:
I need to go. Lauren and Jessica need to be placed back on the couch. They're weak.

DAN:
I'll pray for an end to the close games.

HEATHER:
Thank you, or else we might have real casualties.

Someone got here by searching for: Madden 2003 no pancakes Watching: Well, aside from basketball, the rather odd (but splendid for the naked Ewan) Velvet Goldmine And how are you doing in that tournament pool? Thanks for asking! Jessica's tied for first with Dan's sister, Lauren's in third, and I'm in fifth. Or something like that. Anyway, it's on.


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