If at first you don't succeed, blame someone else and seek counseling.

Well nation, my least favorite time of the year is quickly approaching: the end of football season.  This means a couple things, the first of which is that the playoffs/Super Bowl are upon us.  I love the playoffs, even though my Cowboys haven't had a significant run since 1996.  I think that my favorite part of the playoffs, however, is the concept of the "Bandwagon."  The Bandwagon, for those of you who think the Super Bowl is that huge thing in the soup kitchen, is the figurative term for when someone starts acting like a huge fan of whatever team is doing well, effectively "jumping on the bandwagon."  Now don't get me wrong, I have jumped on the bandwagon tons of times in just as many sports, but let's be clear, I love supporting several teams (such as the New Orleans Saints), but when those teams lose, I can move on.  However, when MY team (Dallas) loses, I turn into the fifth grade girl that didn't get invited to the birthday party.  Unfortunately that seems to happen very often. But I'm getting sidetracked.  The Bandwagon.  As far as I'm concerned, the Bandwagon is the greatest thing that has been introduced to sports since steroids.  (If you haven't read it already, my opinion on steroids is made explicitly clear towards the end of this blog, click here to read it.)  What the Bandwagon does is ensure that there is always a surplus of fans for every game that matters, and that the majority of people are happy at the end of a season, as bandwagonners are prone to simply flip sides mid game by slowly making excuses during the game about how they really have enjoyed watching [insert star player from other team] throughout the season.  And I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I'm a pro at this.  But honestly if I could, not only would I jump on every bandwagon possible, I'd be the fucking driver.  How great would that be??  You'd have a winning season every season, a championship every year, IN EVERY SPORT.  Think about it.  Even if we lose, this is the scenario:  We're on the figurative bus, tailgating like it's our effing job, we watch the game, it ends, we lose, we pout for seven minutes, redecorate the bus and start celebrating again.  What was your justification for not doing this again?  I don't care, your reason is irrelevant and stupid.  Of course there are always those sports fans who are so avidly obsessed with their team that it actually takes the fun out of watching sports for other people, and these are the ones that will unfailingly call out the bandwagonners, saying (and make sure to read this in an extremely whiny voice) "I've been a true fan my entire life, even when they were losing."  Good for you, douchebag.  I'll be sure to let them know at the Fan Of The Year Awards that don't exist.  I call these people the Hipsters of Football.  (Side Note:  If and when the Cowboys win the Super Bowl in the future, I will without a doubt convert into a Football Hipster.)

Speaking of Hipsters, does anybody remember when long distance phone bills existed?  I completely forgot about those.

Okay so if you're reading this blog, you know that I have a very vivid imagination.  (That might be dumbing it down a little, but it's better than admitting I've gone insane.)  Anyway, my question to you is:  If a bad dream at night is called a "nightmare," is a bad daydream called a "daymare"?  I ask because if that's what it's called, then I had one hell of a daymare the other day.  Basically any time I'm running (it's a kind of exercise) or even walking somewhere that takes longer than three minutes, my mind dives headfirst into a daydream.  There is no pattern to it at all, but I can tell you that they aren't light-hearted daydreams.  In these dreams I'm not on a vacation or anything.  In the good ones, for example, I’ll be somewhere in an alternate universe and I've just solved their alien equivalent to cancer, effectively saving the entire species from extinction.  The bad ones, and they get bad sometimes, are simply too gruesome to write about.  Luckily this one wasn't too horrible.  In this dream I was base jumping off of the Marina Bay Sands Hotel in Singapore.  I jumped off, free fell for a little bit, and from there two things happened:  First, I was somehow transported over to a forest, but because this is a dream and that kind of stuff is for some reason completely normal in dreams, I didn’t even question it.  Second, I pulled the ripcord and promptly found out there was a hole in my parachute.  Being that I was in the middle of the jungle, I realized I had no hope but to try and land, so after a string of expletives I began looking for something soft to land on.  There was nothing, so I proceeded to aim for a tree with large branches that I could tangle my lines on and hopefully climb down.  I found such a tree and tangled my lines, then, because my own self-conscious hates me, the tree fell.  Now, in case you've forgotten, this was all a dream.  And not only a dream, a DAYdream.  While all this is going on in my head, my body is walking through campus surrounded by a large number of college-aged strangers.  God-knows what I was doing throughout the majority of this dream, but I can tell you that when that imaginary tree fell, I let out a short yelp and flailed my arms out to my sides.  I thought I was trying to catch any other branches to save myself, but in reality I was just punching the building I was next to while simultaneously stiff-arming the young woman passing me into the street.  Not one of my smoother moments.

I don't like the term "horror stories."  Also, I don't like horror stories.  But I really don't like when that phrase is used as a way to described a bad time.  For example, when someone is "telling horror stories from when they were in the war,” it means they're talking about some of the unpleasant times they had when they were enlisted.  And I don't mean to downplay anybody in that position, but when I hear the phrase “horror stories from the war,” I immediately picture the American military going to war against the girl from The Ring, Scream, and Casper the Not-So-Friendly Ghost.

Fact of the Day:  Sounds travels 15 times faster through steel than it does through air.

Shout out to Joseph Mount.