Nine

During the card drawing for draft spots yesterday one card on the table stood out to me. Called my name even. I just knew it was the #1 spot. I didn't hesitate, or re-think it as I often do. Just went for it. I turn it over, there it is, #9. Huh? Nine!?! No more beer before card drawings. It clouds my ESP.

I rushed over to Booksamillion right after it was over to pick up some fantasy football magazines so I could form a strategy for picking at that lower spot. What did I find out? That by the time it gets to me there won't be poop left to choose from. My first pick might as well be Nell Carter. Oh wait, she died, um still might as well be her I guess.

One good thing to note is that if memory serves me correct (and God only knows if it does) the year I came in 1st I had drafted in that spot. But I also recall getting lucky and having Priest Holmes fall to me there. People had passed him over, and he wound up being the best running back in the NFL that season.

I wish I had time to tell the story of the world's dumbest waitress at Hooter's yesterday, but I need to get ready to go to my nephews baptism. Maybe I'll squeeze it in tomorrow if I'm not too worn out after work.