March Madness can mean so many things.

Meli's kickass hat is from The House of MacGregor. Daniel's hair is from decades of bad haircuts.

With all the insanity that is going on globally, it is difficult for me to use the word "epic". First of all, it's part of a title of a Mickey Mouse video game. Right then and there, the word lost a bit of it's intensity. Secondly, I would be breaking the Louie CK rule of exaggerated vocabulary. But I have no other adjectives in the word box. I'm sorry.

Anytime you get to go to two sporting events without having to pay for a single ticket, that's pretty awesome. Granted, it was hockey, but it's a professional sports league. So, for most people, that would be their weekend. Spool it up and wait for Monday to show up. But no, I had to entertain out-of-town guests, go to a birthday party, pull a late night filled with service industry alienation, Old Milwaukee, YouTube video references, ditching The Toadies, calling an absolute stranger a d-bag for cutting in front of me in a food line (yeah, I don't know if it was the beverages or the sunburn talking at that point), the luckiest pizza delivery guy outside of a porno storyline, the best shower ever, and a home-cooked meal in which my mother would assault a small child for the recipe.

Yeah, yeah, this is a 32-year-old's epic weekend.

Part of the epic-ness was moving through a cloud that I used to navigate all the time when I was younger. You really start to appreciate stamina when you start to lose it. But then when you have 12 hours on your feet and in the heat without collapsing under your own weight, you start scrambling for those gold stars you used to earn because, damnit, you just got yourself a new one. Also, where did that tolerance come from?

Maybe I should back up...

Dallas is known for very few things because it's filled with plastic people ballooning plastic thoughts. But if there is one thing this city does right, it's the St. Patrick's Day Parade. Every Saturday before drunky's night out, this town goes greener than Al Gore's PowerPoint presentations. The scene is controlled chaos before the floats, flat-bed trucks and one poorly decorated OU alumni trailer (it's 8:47pm...). Then the parade rolls out. Living downtown and being trapped near kiddie parade central (thanks Adolphus Hotel for waking me up so early on a holiday weekend), it was a welcome change of pace where the subject matter is not overtly adult, but PG-13 enough to tolerate the Charlie-Foxtrot of traffic, people and waking up relatively early on a Saturday. Then it ended. Media juggernaut Gordon Keith stole my thought on The Musers this morning, but I will reiterate. The aftermath is the most realistic looking post-apocalyptic, zombie-plagued urban scare-scape that I have seen in a long time. And it was awesome.

For most people, just the parade would be enough to call that an epic weekend, especially after witnessing the revelry and the expiration of some people's sobriety and good graces. As a parade virgin, it was all to be expected with a couple of fun surprises in between. As I have mentioned before, it is amazing how the body responds to different stresses. And with the White Rock Marathon notwithstanding, this was about as impressed I have been with my sad sack of beyond-the-warranty bones. But when you really want to continue to stand to see what happens next, the stamina shows up in buckets.

Good job, human body. And thanks to everyone that joined along in the fun. If we do it again next year, remind me to grab a hat and get a better night's sleep.

Lessons Learned, my three things.
1) Never, ever, ever, ever buy something you really want. Three months later, another something will come by and CRUSH EVERYTHING IN IT'S PATH, INCLUDING YOU.
2) So, my older brother is now on Twitter. I wonder in how many formats, languages and social media platforms he can offend with? Now he's just showing off (@garner99...go ahead a guess what his password is.)
3) If it wasn't for The Bachelor, Dancing With The Stars and Modern Family, ABC would be my generation's version of CBS. BTW, fuck The Bachelor; can I have my wife back, now?

Pow. It's an update. Now I have to watch a lot of basketball. PS - I have a couple of new correspondents. Hope they come up with something a delicious as post-parade coverage...wait, that sounded odd. Talk later.