How we had to watch a fuzzy "Seven Years in Tibet," which is making both of us slightly irritated
Last night I blogged about how nice it'd be if Dave were here.
I miscalculated football night.
"No football."
"It should be over by now," he said, flipping on the TV. "Until the 7 o'clock games start, anyhow."
"No pre-games, then."
"OK, OK."
Yet NBC comes on and wow, men are yelling about calls and games long over.
"Good thing this is the post-game. I'm home free."
"Dave. I'm going to bed."
"Can we watch baseball?"
Dude. We don't even get sound on Fox. Knock yourself out.
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