SUPER BOWL PREDICTIONS

SUPER BOWL PREDICTIONS
and a bonus, unsolicited rant.

OK all you nay Sayers, the Cranky Old Man successfully predicted last week’s winners…ha!  http://joeh-crankyoldman.blogspot.com/2015/01/crankys-nfl-championship-games.html 

Of course even my friend Marty “Mr. Loser jr.” also picked the correct winners and the Packers totally outplayed the Seahawks for 58 minutes, still…

Last week’s predictions             Last week’s results

Seahawks 35 Packers 24                    Seahawks 28 Packers 22

Patriots 38 Colts 31                              Patriots 45 Colts 7

Even most football haters love the Super Bowl parties so I know you are all waiting for my Super Bowl Predictions, here they are:

1.     The first question at least half the women at your party will ask will be, “Where are they playing?”

2.     The next question at least half the women at your party will ask will be, “Who’s playing?”

3.    The third question at least half the women at your party will ask will be, “Which team is wearing the pretty blue uniforms?”

4.    The announcers will tell us that turn-overs will be very important.

5.    All talking will cease for each commercial, followed by critiques of each commercial when play resumes.

6.    Half-time will take over one hour.

7.    Thirty-second half-time interviews with the coaches will reveal nothing other than “We just have to execute better.”

8.     The winning team will drop at least three passes that the color man will say, “You just gotta make that catch.”  Maybe you don’t gotta, they still won.

9.    Bill Belichick will wear an ugly gray hoodie, and will not smile even once.

10.                       Seattle Seahawks 28 New England Patriots 13

Unsolicited Rant

 I'm tired of this deflated ball bull shit.  If it was such a big deal, if it was so obvious, then the opposing players should have noticed and said something.  The refs touch the ball before every play, they should have noticed.  They did not because it is not a big deal.  They throw baseballs out of play all the time when the pitcher scuffs them or grinds them in dirt.  The refs never noticed a difference because it is not a big deal.  They won 45-7 for crap sake, that had more to do with NE being the better team then a deflated ball.

It is all a stupid smoke screen...And I HATE New England and Belichick.  I hate Belichick because I wish he stayed and coached the Jets. 

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

I generally post a Mrs. Cranky story on Thursdays, but lately she gives me so much material I may have to do two Mrs. Cranky posts a week.

We recently discovered a cable channel that is very interesting.  When nothing else is on, this is our go to station.  The station has stories of women killing men 24/7.  We call it the “Women killing Men” station.

Last Saturday I was in my basement cave watching golf and futsing around with my guitar.  Mrs. Cranky was upstairs taking a nap. The show she was watching before nodding off on her Saturday nap was “Wives with Knives.”

Suddenly Mrs. C came downstairs and was pissed at me.  It seems she had a dream within a dream.  I was doing something in the closet that got her upset.  She “woke up” and thought I was in the bathroom.  She started to complain to me about what I had done in the closet when she woke up for real and realized I was actually in the basement.  Still she was angry with me.

“I dreamed you were fooling with stuff in my closet.  You need to stay away from my stuff in the closet!”

“Kare…it was a dream.”

“Well it seemed real, and then I dreamed I woke up.  I had a dream inside a dream, it was weird and it was somehow your fault.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I am not responsible for anything I do inside your dreams?”

“I know!  Still it is hard to get out of my head.  Even in my dreams you are a jerk!”

This Saturday while I was relaxing in my basement cave I got a text from Mrs. C who awoke from her Saturday nap,

“Another dream in a dream, you are killing me.”
I went upstairs.

“What now?”

“Once more I dreamed you were doing stuff in my closet.  I thought I woke up and you were still being a jerk.  Then I woke up for real; it was another dream in a dream.”

“Again; I am not responsible for anything I may do inside your dreams”

Here comes the comment from Mrs. C that scares me and yet in some strange way endears her to me.

“I wanted to text, 'I’m going to kill you' but I thought that if anything does happen to you they would suspect me.”

I think she needs to take her nap while watching “Say YES to the Dress.”

THE HAIR

THE HAIR

I am not as a rule a stubborn man.  There are times when a situation presents itself that is so bizarre I just have to figure it out.  Last night a hair in the sink was one of those situations.

We recently upgraded our master bathroom.  I am proud of our new sink.  The old one had chips and was in general, even after a thorough cleaning, disgusting.

Last night, before going to bed, after brushing my teeth and rinsing, there remained in my new pristine sink, a hair.  It was not a big hair.  It was just a little bigger than eye lash.  I could have flicked the hair off the sink and sent it down the drain, but for some reason I just dumped a cup of water on it.

The hair fluttered under the flow of water.  It waved back and forth, but the tiny very tip of the hair was somehow firmly attached to the sink.  Once again, I could have flicked the hair away with my finger, but this is where I became stubborn.  I could not believe the hair could hold tight to the sink and no, it was not glued by a small gob of toothpaste, the sink was clean.

I heaved another cup of water on the hair.  Again it waved at me but did not release its magic grip.  I took a mouthful of water and spit with power-wash velocity at the hair.  It did not budge.  I took a cup of water and dropped it from great height upon the hair.  It flapped in the stream like a flag in the wind but did not come loose.

Now I was determined.  I took a cup of water and slammed it hard at the hair again and again.  Nothing.  I filled the sink with hot water and then pulled the plug.  The water drained in a speedy whirlpool and the hair did not give in.  I squirted liquid soap on the hair and doused it with scalding water.  The tiny hair hung tight. 

There was now water all over the counter and some on the floor.

“Joe, what the hell are you doing in there?”

“Nothing, be right in.”

“Nothing?  You are making a racket and I hear splashing.  What the hell”

“It’s just a hair in the sink; it won’t go down the drain.”

“A hair? Just push it in, pick it up, grab a square of toilet paper and wipe it up.  Is that so hard for Christmas sake?”

“It’s just that I can’t believe it will not wash away.  I’ve never seen a hair in the sink that would not just wash away.”

“Why are you being such a jerk?”

“But you should see this hair, it’s like that friggin “Unbreakable” guy in the movie!”

“Just pick it up, throw it out, and come to bed!”

I figured maybe I was being a jerk.  I wiped down the counter and the floor, took a TP square, swept up the hair, and flushed it down the toilet. 

I flushed twice.