Stop the Madness

I ask that we observe a moment of silence to respectfully mourn the passing of WOO SPRING BREAK '09.

I had little opportunity to show my boobs to strangers because I remained in Boston for the duration of break.

Readers will be happy to know, however, that I had an epically unproductive break, and now face death in the coming weeks.

In fact, the slow march towards oblivion began today. As drunks of all ages know, the Sunday before St. Patrick's Day is the Day of the Parade in Southie. Along with Slope Day, the end of finals, and various random Saturdays during the summer, today is a day when it is not only not socially unacceptable to drink in the morning, it is more or less expected.

I mean, if the mayor is doing it, then why can't we?

Although the Globe -- like the inspector in Casablanca -- is doing a terrific job of turning a blind eye to the drinking, we all know that the kegs far outnumber the eggs in Boston today.

And where was I?

Sitting in the library, plodding through admin, gazing wistfully out the window, cursing myself for not working over break, taking solace in the fact that, if one good thing can come of this, it's that at least I now have the added argument of "I skipped the St. Patty's Parade" when I'm trying to convince folks at my next intervention that they're overreacting.

I'll ignore the fact, of course, that this was essentially done under duress.

But all was not lost today. Cornell hockey is on to the semis where they will hopefully answer a lonely nation's prayers and defeat those assholes from Princeton.

And, of course, Selection Sunday. We'll be facing Missouri, the Big 12 champ, on Friday. Thank God the game is at three in the afternoon or I'd have had to miss our horse-themed prom.

14-seeds have beat 3-seeds before. I know little about Missouri other than they gave the world Kenneth Lay and Sheryl Crow. In any case, they are now my mortal enemies. Let's go hunt some tigers.