March Madness Survival Guide
Here it comes. March Madness. The Big Dance. The NCAA basketball tournament. Doesn’t matter what you call it, for a lot of us it is an unwelcome intrusion into our March television watching schedule. Those sportscaster types always like to allude to “the agony of defeat.” Agony? I’ll show you agony. Who amongst us has not suffered the agony of having The Young and the Restless preempted endlessly during the month of March? I prefer to call it March Sadness.
Nobody thinks about us. You can’t turn on a tv or radio without hearing painful attempts by advertisers trying to inappropriately include March Madness references into their spots. Folks, we’re so mad for March Madness that we are practically giving away our best Hummel figurines!
I figured out a long time ago that the best approach toward this strange collective male ritual is to embrace it. Look forward to it. This might be one of the only times all year you can get away with some of the hi-jinks I’m about to share. Here’s a handy dandy guide on what to do to survive and even enjoy March Madness.
Do nothing. That’s right. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Look, your significant other is going to be hiding out in the basement for the next several weeks. He will not notice if the house is clean, and he will be subsisting on beer, pizza, and hot wings, so you don’t have to cook. Buy that box of bon-bons everyone seems to think we all have on hand at all times, and relax. You can watch all the Lifetime Movies you want (as long as you steer clear of the big screen) without being chastised. Enjoy the silence (upstairs, of course.)
Play drinking games (without your husband knowing you are doing so.) If you are forced to participate in group viewing activities, make a game of it. Take a sip of your beer anytime a man in the room mentions the following words or phrases: bracket, what the hell is wrong with them, you’ve got to be kidding me, overachieving, *any* curse word, this ref sucks.
Take it a step further and bring the sportscasters into the mix. They are always good for a few of these words: athleticism, courage, underdog, unpredictability, nothing but rim, Cinderella team, talented squad.
Shop. This is the perfect time to do some online shopping. You can hit your favorite store with swift surgical precision and do some major damage, all from the comfort of your own home. He won’t notice until April, and by then you will have had a chance to wear everything at least once, rendering it non-returnable.
If you do get caught earlier than you anticipated, be sure to exhibit indignant moral outrage over the fact that he bet money on brackets. That will confuse or stun him temporarily, and his initial guilt might be enough to get you off the hook.
Fill out brackets arbitrarily. If you participate in an office pool, come up with the stupidest reasons ever to pick a team, and watch the fun begin. All your male colleagues will seethe with anger and jealousy when you win the office pool by using such rational as, “I picked team A because their coach has been divorced three times, and three is my favorite number, so it seemed like the right team to pick.”
Watch Tom in cubicle 125 openly weep when his bracket that he spend 23.35 hours on after crunching stats and calculating predictions is shot to hell on the second day of the tournament. Priceless
Leave the country. Perfect time to head down to Mexico for a little R & R. All the men are bitchy and on edge, might as well get the heck away for a while.
Avoid sports bars. Unless you are an anthropologist wanting to observe the male specimen in his native habitat, there is just no reason to subject yourself to the sports bar during the month of March. Let’s face it, this is the only time that you could prance through a bar in pasties and a thong, and no one will notice. Go hit the wine bars with girlfriends instead. Happy March Madness!