Fine. Whatever. I don’t really care.

I have been at my parents’ house for about 40 hours, and a vast majority of them have been spent playing games with the Little One (who could very well be the coolest person I know – I really, really like her), dealing with two warring dogs, hearing bad jokes and stories from Dad, catching up with Mom, shopping, cleaning, picking up sticks, trying to sleep (and being largely unsuccessful), dealing with other family members, and eating. Though at one point yesterday, I had a frosted sugar cookie in one hand, and a chocolate chip cookie in the other. Nice.

Is everybody bored yet? How about you go away? Just stop reading and return tomorrow.

I accepted a bet. I knew it wasn’t a good bet, but grad school loyalty demanded that I give it a shot. So Charlie bet his team would outlast my team in this NCAA basketball thing. Then on Thursday, in a stunning show of evil, he reminded me that the tournament was beginning and that he’d miss most of the first round games. Then there was something about never seeing my team play! Indignant, I responded with a shameful, “I know. I’m nervous.”

His team played well (big, mean bullies), and my team played … Well, I didn’t see it so I’m not sure how they played. But they didn’t win – I can’t even say it was close. At one point, on another topic, I made some comparison regarding a race between greyhounds and turtles. Really slow turtles that aren’t very smart. And Charlie, much to my delight, extended it to “Make the turtle blind, with no sense of smell or direction and one broken hip.”

My team and I are the turtles, OK? You should know though, Charlie, that it’s all part of the master plan. We will be avenged, and there will be a better bet than writing something about how your school is better than my school (such a lie – I can’t even look at that statement without rolling my eyes). For the sad turtle, I’m thinking something along the lines of an artificial hip, lasic surgery, and an internal navigation system. And the pain of this loss will make said turtle study harder in an attempt to gain super intelligence with which he will control his bionic body.

Meanwhile, your greyhound will become arrogant in what is clearly a minor victory now. Perhaps he will skip his daily training sessions to romance a lady greyhound who only likes him for his athletic ability. He’ll gain weight, age badly and perhaps lose some of his shiny coat. Then as the little turtle continues to improve (and I really, really hope the lifespan of a turtle is longer than that of a dog, though I fear that’s not true. Dial-up internet prevents me from spending what could be hours looking it up), your dog will see said turtle – with his super intelligence, technically-improved body and incredible strength of will – and just roll over to nap because turtle superiority is overwhelming to him.

Luckily, my exhaustion – mental and physical – prohibits me from feeling too badly about this. (I hate to lose though.) So while it’s over for the basketball portion of the battle, the war has yet to be determined!

Stupid freaking turtles. We’ll win in the end though. I’m pretty sure.

Oh, and that bet said nothing about being graceful in defeat. I checked.