If you know anything about me, you know that March is my jam. I love the NCAA Tournament to an unhealthy level. Every year, Ross and I take the first Thursday and Friday off to sit at a bar and watch all the games. We drink. We swear. We make both intelligent and unintelligent conversation about what’s going on. Basically, in a group of our friends all consisting of men, I’m the only woman sitting at the bar. I’m usually the most vocal. This is what love is. Although, Ross refuses to go to a live game with me. He objects to my behavior. I say, if you don’t want your children to hear that type of language, don’t bring them to a sporting event. If nothing else, they’ll learn how to use swear words properly.

If you’re my friend, you’d also know that I love Buckeye basketball. Behind Walt Disney, Thad Matta is God. However, they sucked this year. SUCKED! Sucked to the point that I couldn’t watch them. It depressed me. I’m an angry fan. I expect the best and I get upset when my teams fall short of that expectation. Harsh? Perhaps. But that’s the way I roll. No apologies and no settling. My Buckeyes are not in the Tournament this year. That makes me sad but the reality of the situation is that I’d rather not be in it than be embarrassed.

So, regardless if my team is in the Big Dance or not, I’ve filled out my brackets (3 to be exact), I’m excited to hang out with my friends this week, and I’m excited for basketball.