Son of a...

I had full intentions of enjoying myself last night. I started a fire, poured a glass of wine, logged on to GoodReads.com to do some updating and expected to enjoy watching ASU beat up on Texas in the Holiday Bowl. Or, at least top Texas in the Holiday Bowl.

Everything went as planned except for that last part.

I'm a vocal sports watcher. I talk back to the TV and comment on the action even if I'm the only one in the room. Sugar Daddy use to tell me, "You know they can't hear you, right?" Doesn't matter, I'm still going to talk.

Pretty much all I said last night was, "Son of a bitch." Sometimes, it was a quiet whisper and other times I yelled it. I can't tell you how many times I said it. Let's see, how many turnovers were there and how many times did they let Texas run for yards and yards and yards? I'll go with "a lot."

I finally gave up on the game in the fourth quarter and went to bed.

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