9:45 p.m.

• I just turned off the Nets/Raptors game. New Jersey is up by THIRTY POINTS?! I'm sure there's a "that's only 12 points after the Canadian exchange rate" joke to be made, but damn. I guess Toronto didn't want to play past April.

4:29 p.m.

• So I just spent the afternoon playing f’n Bingo with the better half at her church. The mother in-law was going to attend but couldn’t due to visitation with her granddaughter, so guess who was the lucky duck that got to take her place? Yep. Out of approximately 100 people in attendance looking for B-15s and O-72s, there were only three males in attendance, and I was one of them. In addition, I’m quite certain there was only one person there younger than me and Mrs. kkk. Boy do old people love their Bingo. Not only Bingo, but all the little gambling games that take place at one of these events: raffles, scratch-off games, SUPER SPECIAL BINGO CARDS for when games like “Crazy T” and “Fill the Card” are needed when the usual Bingo games aren’t enough to satisfy your fix. When I came into this place there was a poster showing all the ways to win at the regular Bingo games. You had the five across, down and diagonal. OK. Then there was “postage stamp,” where you had to get the top four numbers on upper right-hand side of your card. Big star, little star, four outer corner, four inner corners. Christ, how am I supposed to remember all this shit? And one of the house rules was that you had to call Bingo before the next number was called or else it’s null and void. Then you had the old ladies sitting around you going, “What did he say?” after every other number was called. No wonder telemarketers go after these easy targets.

After leaving winless we headed over to the local gas station to get mulch. I mention this because last year the better half was doing some landscaping around the house, and she told me to go and get a dozen or so bags of mulch. I asked what kind she wanted. Her response: “Get whatever.” So I did. I got this black mulch. I guess “whatever” means “anything other than black.” When I brought these bags home the following conversation took place.

Her: “What’s this?”

Me: “Mulch.”

Her: “It’s black.”

Me: “And?”

Her: “Well I didn’t want black.”

Me: “You said ‘get whatever.’”

Her: “But we don’t use black mulch.”

Me: “We do now.”

A funny thing happened when we used this black mulch. It actually turned out pretty darn good. So good in fact, that the mother in-law used the same color that year for her flowerbed. When we went out to get mulch today, the better half complained because the mulch available at the gas station was either in red or brown color. Because of this she dropped me off at home and headed to Home Depot to buy mulch that’s 83 cents more expensive per bag than the Quickie Mart mulch. But guess what color mulch Mrs. kkk is paying more money to get? Yep.