I feel ya, Wisconsin.

Well, the entire state is currently in mourning due to the Packers' (pathetic) loss last night to the Giants. For my part, I was over the playoffs halfway through yesterday's Chargers game, when it became clear that no amount of field goals would come close to defeating the Patriots, who didn't play a particularly great game but did manage to score some touchdowns, which is pretty key. Matt and I went to our friends' apartment to watch part of the Packers game but we got hungry around half time, so we headed over to Hector's for some Mexican food, knowing the game would be on in the bar area. We didn't really consider that we would be the only two people in the restaurant rather indifferent to the outcome of the game, but of course we were--at first. Within about two minutes we were rooting 100% for the Packers, because we quickly realized that if we didn't we might get beat up or otherwise harassed by the VERY inebriated and impassioned Packers fans in close proximity to our table.

So we did our part, participating in some of the chants and songs ("We love Brett Favre"), giving high-fives when prompted by the bartender, and understanding full well that there would be no way for us to leave the place before the end of the game unless we were feeling particularly brave, or stupid. Meanwhile Brett Favre is looking like an amateur, the teams are tied in the fourth quarter, and I'm thinking to myself, "Please lord, let the Packers just win this one game; I value my life and my sanity, and I'm not sure I can withstand the imminent tantrums, brawls, and angry drunk drivers should this not go Green Bay's way." And of course--OF COURSE--the game almost does go Green Bay's way about, oh, 6 times, and the Packers continue to screw it up, and the customers/fans are getting drunker, and Matt and I are kind of shrinking in our booth, growing more and more terrified of the outcome...

...which, by the way, would have been hilarious to the unaffected onlooker if said onlooker was not slightly worried about getting out of Hector's alive at 9:30 on a Sunday night. I mean, seriously--the Giants' kicker totally shanked two field goal attempts, either one of which would have won the game, but the Packers failed to capitalize on this both times, ultimately leaving the fate of the game AGAIN in the foot of the Giants' kicker, who at this point had become a fan favorite due to his complete and utter ineptitude. In fact, the Packers fans all seemed pretty comfortable and happy jeering at him as he walked onto the field, as if this guy had convinced them all by this point that he couldn't have made a field goal over 20 yards to save his life, so obviously Green Bay would get the ball back and have yet another unearned chance to blow the game. Me, I'm thinking, you just don't get to the NFL if you miss three 30-some-odd-yard field goal attempts in a row (or maybe, you don't stay in the NFL....whatever), so it doesn't surprise me in the least when the guy finally makes the field goal, and the game's over.

Oh my god, I have never seen a sorrier bunch of drunks in my life. Tears in the eyes of grown men with beards, and such. We got out of there as fast as we could, with fake (but I believe very convincing) depressed looks on our faces, and absolutely dissolved into giggles as soon as we reached the car.

Now don't get me wrong--I was kind of pulling for the Packers. But it is a football game, after all. We're not talking about, like, World War III, or something.

So, yeah, Wisconsin is in mourning. I had pretty much forgotten about NFL football altogether by the time I left the house this morning, on a mission to get my car's headlight fixed and get rid of it (the car, not the headlight). Then I got to the Hyundai dealer and was reminded of the tragedy by the sheer number of depressed, hungover people (well, they probably weren't all hungover, but they definitely all appeared to be depressed), and I waited in line listening absentmindedly to all the sadness and all the resentment, and half an hour later my car was fixed and I was ready to go get rid of the damn thing before it kills me one of these days when I'm trying to make a left turn yield in a snowstorm.

Of course, it had kindly begun to snow by the time I got to CarMax, and they kindly appraised my car at a price I'm kind of embarrassed to mention ("no one, uh, really wants this kind of car in Wisconsin, so that definitely affects its value") (me and Kelly Blue Book are so NOT on good terms right now), and I headed home very seriously defeated, and the sky by that time was absolutely DUMPING snow, and I was reminded numerous times on the way home exactly why I need to get rid of this damn car. I got home and couldn't even get the thing into the driveway so I left it on the street, knowing full well that at this rate it might stay there, snowed in, for days, but not really caring because it's useless anyhow.

Let me take a quick break to just apologize for how long this post is getting, and how much of it is just blatant whining/venting. I promise I will end on a positive note, but I'm not sure it will be positive enough to make you not regret having spent half an hour of your life reading it. Furthermore, if you are still reading at this point, and if you finish reading this post, I'm really rather touched, because I very well might have nodded off by now if I were you.

So anyway, I left the car on the street and trudged inside, literally shaking due to a) several near-death experiences, and b) the wrath caused by the CarMax people, who clearly don't realize that "cute" and "red" should be worth more than $6000. I decided that, in order for my anxiety to dissipate before Matt got home, I would paint our bedroom blue. We've had this blue paint sitting in our basement for months because after painting the living room and the kitchen back in August I was so sick of painting that I just quit. Well, I thought today would be a good day to get that done, and it might have been, had I not been in such a bad mood.

See, I have this problem where, when I'm in a bad mood, I become obsessively committed to finishing something, but not in a positive, determined, diligent way; more, a pissed-off, stubborn, wild kind of way. I have been trying to overcome this flaw but it rears its ugly head on days like this. So, as you might guess, by the time Matt gets home I am covered in paint, halfway finished with what has by then occurred to me as a rather monstrously large job, out of tape, sort of wildly and half-heartedly flinging blue at the wall in a desperate attempt to finish something useful today in the hopes that it will improve my outlook on life.

Thank god, Matt helped me instead of running in fear. He is a truly good man. He helped me, and all of a sudden the job didn't seem so monstrous anymore. Afterwards he even convinced me it was worthwhile to try to dig out my car, so we bundled up and went outside with the shovel. It was still snowing, I couldn't believe it. It snowed all day today. As Matt shoveled (we have only one snow shovel, which doesn't usually inconvenience me all that much), I marveled at today's snow, which until that moment had only incited in me the most withering hatred: it was the fluffiest, sparkliest snow I've ever seen. Huge, iridescent flakes, kind of like that dry fish food you can buy at the pet store. I walked out to the street and looked around and it was so, so beautiful, almost as if it was raining sequins. I stood there for a second, taken aback, and I swear it occurred to me, momentarily, inexplicably, that I was really lucky to witness such an event, and that I've never in my life seen anything like it.

Thankfully, we did indeed manage to dig out my car, and Matt somehow got it up the driveway and into the garage, where it will remain, possibly forever, unless some poor soul takes it off my hands for no less than $6001. So, see, this is ending on a positive note. In general though, I'm with the Packers fans on this one: today was a shitty day.