Proving that "The Bachelorette" is a great metaphor for real life.

Likeohmygod.

You-know-how-that-one-time-on-The-Bachelorette-Trista-had-to-pick-between-Charlie-and-Ryan-and-I-was-like-ohmygod-because-Ryan-was-clearly-the-shit-but-I-heard-that-she-actually-chose-Charlie-and-I-was-SO-nervous-during-the-finale-because-ohmygod!-how-could-she-chose-Charlie-when-Ryan-was-like-so-totally-her-soulmate-and-it-was-so-freakin'-obvious-and-I-mean-it's-like-I-totally-know-and-love-these-people-and-just-want-it-all-to-work-out-ya-know?

Here is where I am going to use "The Bachelorette" to give you an illustration of real life, after which I will attempt to bring it all around and make a point. Hang in there.

During the first season of "The Bachelorette" I was psycho. I was so personally involved that you would have THOUGHT I actually knew these people. In real life. Not fake TV life. True story, I could barely watch the finale, because I had heard rumor (from very reputable St. Louis sources?) that Trista picked Charlie. And I thought I was gonna die. It was heartbreaking for me to watch all three parties involved headed toward doom and unhappiness. Because for me, Charlie equaled death and Satan and people who club baby seals. Though he did appear to be somewhat of a nice guy.

And then she picked Ryan! And it was like I was having my first child, I was so proud. Overjoyed! Happiness and rainbows and baby hamsters for everyone! And to top it off, a few weeks later, Mike and I went skiing in Vail and WE TOTALLY SAW THEM. Ohmygod-it-was-like-totally-the-best-day-of-my-WHOLE-life.

The point being, this is how I get with competition. Survivor, seasons 1-5, same story. I almost divorced Mike because he wouldn't call in a vote for Ruben Studdard in American Idol, season 2.

Yes, I have issues. And it is probably wise that I never played sports, nor followed them at any point in my life.

But this weekend, there is a HUGE competition about to go down. Maybe you've heard of the Final Four?

I usually don't pay ANY attention, because I grew up in Hawaii, and we are not known for our *height* or baller skillz. There were no professional teams to associate with in my childhood, though you need only reference the University of Hawaii's 2007 UNDEFEATED football season and the phenomenon known as Colt Brennan, to realize that Hawaii goes ape-crap over it's football. Seriously, I have a 4-year-old cousin named Brennan, if that puts it into perspective for you. And, I did happen to watch their crushing defeat in the Sugar Bowl, which *almost* fried every nerve circuit in my whole entire body.

For those of you who ACTUALLY pay attention to sports, and in particular, college basketball, then you are aware that a small school in Indiana is up for the title. A small school that has knocked off several giants to advance to the semi finals. I won't try to explain it any more, because frankly, I don't understand it. But I know it's all kinds of amazing, and while there are "stats" and predictions and records to explain it all, I prefer to think of it in terms of magical fairy dust and fate and the story upon which Oscar-winning movies are made.

Regardless, of the mad skillz or fairy dust, I am rooting BIG TIME for Butler.

And I am personally invested. Because Butler's coach went to DePauw, and he's one year younger than yours truly. But also, his wife Tracy happens to be my old roommate. My co-Rush chair who conspired to take over the world with me, one recruitment party at a time.

Just kidding. Kind of. When you are in a college sorority at a VERY traditional, Greek school, the process of Rush is similar to curing cancer. Only with cheering and matching t-shirts and brownies.

Oh! And she actually caught the bouquet at our wedding. Which *technically* means that I am somewhat responsible that she and Brad are married. Never mind that I think they started dating before Mike and I.

So. Though I know nothing about basketball, I have been officially GLUED to a television during the playoffs, or the March Madness, or the tournament, or whatever it is you basketball fans call it. And the tension--OH the TENSION--is so much worse than that-one-time-that-Trista-even-CONSIDERED-ending-up-with-Charlie-because-ohmygod-what-was-she-thinking?

Only now, it's like shoot-shoot-ow!-Rebound!-YESSSSSSSSSSSS-clap,clap,clap-breath-holding-REBOUND!-run, run-three-pointer-Ow!-REBOUND-foul-free-throw-clap,clap,clap. I watch these games and am filled with all kinds of excitement and joy and nervousness and pride for Tracy and her family that I can barely stand it. Because I want this BAD for them. So bad, that I am willing to risk cardiac arrest and severe emotional damage.

Here is also where I will note that Tracy is one of the sweetest, kindest people I have ever met. And just to prove that I am not blowing smoke up your ass, I will tell you that I have many a bitchy college friend. Oh, you know who you are!!! I say this as a term of endearment, because it takes a real friend to tell you that you are being ridiculous.



All this to say, that you all know how much I LOVED college, and Tracy was such a part of my Senior year. And I am overjoyed and excited for the Stevens and the weekend to come--knowing that they are handling it all with incredible grace and style!!

Plus. It is REALLY fun to see someone you know on television. Ohmygod-it-is-like-totally-my-dream-come-true-as-it-pertains-to-transforming-TV-into-reality.

LETS GO BUTLER!