I traded Weaver for Trumbo when Joseph Bats went down. For some unknown reason (beer), I also sat Weaver while I waited for the trade to go through. Idiotic. I won the week anyway, but only by the slimmest of margins. 
 
I beat one of my homeboys. Which made it special. You know what I mean. The trash talking. The texts. The Facebook messages. 
 

What’s that? Just watch the games on t.v.? Great idea. Except, my three year old has Spongebob blaring in my room. If I put the beisbol on, I will not be able to read and type this article. I will have to sit next to my son while he plays Angry Birds (dude always want an audience) and tells me stories about the babysitter’s house. And you can judge me if you like, but I have already done that three times today. My quota is met. 
 
In case you are interested, I am on year eleven of Spongebob. Eleven. Straight. Years. Wanna know something? I am not all that into Squidward.
 
And I hate watching t.v. on my computer. You can keep that helpful suggestion to yourself. I am simply unable to stay on one tab for more than thirty seconds. I ain’t paying for that mess. 
 
Trumbo. Mark Trumbo. This article is about Mark Trumbo. And how I traded him. And how I went to bed last night thinking I had my opponent down for the week already, but woke to find myself up a measly twelve points. Actually, this article was not also about that until the second I typed it, but since we are here, allow me to share something. 
 
I need this win. I have been winning lately and it feels so much better than losing. Incomparable. Next week, I get the league leader, who also happens to be my division leader. I am third in the division and fourth in the league. First of all, that blows. But whatever. Second, I want to dooky all over dude’s head. I will only say that here, however, because I do not want him to arrive at the gates of my mansion and try to kill me.