Oh, the timeliness of the picture. Anyway, I sat down this afternoon with about 25 spare minutes and I found myself poking around my fantasy football home page. I guess I am getting a little antsy for the season. Right there on the main page they tempted me with a mock draft link. It all seems so glamorous. Ooh-la-la, a mock draft. This will be practice. No, research. It’ll be research. I clicked on the link in about 2 seconds. I felt the sense of satisfaction rising up inside of me as I thought about conquering these anonymous Yahoo IDs. Then, I got the 4th pick. Thanks for nothing, Yahoo.
Peterson, Johnson, Foster. Poof, Poof, Triple Poof. So, there I am, soundly in no man’s land. Ray Rice? J-Charles? I took Charles and immediately hated my team. But, it didn’t matter. It never does, because a few minutes later someone took Reggie Wayne in the 2nd round. And, goodnight. It was part of an unprecedented run on wide receivers. I’ve never seen anything like it. Viable, starting running backs are sitting there and people are snapping up Austin Collie, Mystery Illness Maclin and everyone who has ever put on a Saints uniform. Michael Crabtree? Gone. And, early. Someone took Vincent Jackson out from underneath me, I super-reached for Philip Rivers (MVP Lock this year), and I was ready to put it on Auto-Draft. Send me the results, please, Mr. Yahoo.
But, that’s where I learned my 2nd lesson. It’s never safe to put on Auto-Draft. You might not think you care who you get on your mock fantasy team, but 20 minutes later the email shows up, and you care. There he was. Eleventh round, Kevin Kolb. I was repulsed. I don’t even want to think about Kevin Kolb being on my fantasy team. His appearance on my mock team nearly ruined my afternoon. Get away, Kolb. I said, Get! So, to summarize, mock drafts are the most pointless exercises ever and never risk Auto-Draft, it’s way too dangerous.
So, I’ve got a big issue with bread baskets, and fancy restaurants in general. Honestly, I’m tired of being treated like a moron. I’m sure we’ve all seen a bread basket like the one above. What the hell is that crap surrounding the lone piece of bread in the middle? Seriously. How do you even make that? If it doesn’t occur naturally in loaf form get it the bleep off my table.
You’re always a little bit hungrier when you go to a fancy restaurant, right? Unless you run around with the medium-rare aristocracy, it’s probably some kind of special occasion. You’re thinking longingly about your mediocre salad and overpriced entrée. The hunger pangs start zeroing in, and then your know-it-all waiter drops this pile of crapola on the table. The party of four stares each other down. Ok, who’s going to be selfish and go for the actual bread? Who’s going to suck it up and chip a tooth on the crispy, cheese and herb wafer? No one should have to be put in this position. I don’t mind variety, but how about a variety of actual bread? Or, every restaurant could just serve the Outback loaf.
And, god forbid you actually give someone butter. Oh, that’s a African killer bee honey roasted cashew and re-harvested bat sh*t marmalade. Great, go stick your head in the convection oven. Bread and butter work in perfect harmony. It’s a saying. Oh, that’s my bread and butter. Why are we trying to change it? No one says, “A 6-inch dead uphill putt? That’s my rustic nut loaf and chutney.” Butter, it’s delicious. Bring it out, with some bread. People are simple creatures. If you fool them with a great bread basket, they’ll forget they could have made that 13 dollar salad on their own for about $4.29 with a head of iceberg and some Newman’s Own.
Look at this bread basket and tell me which restaurant you want to go to, I think it’s fairly obvious…