sore loser

So I've been doing lots of crunches lately. It's an attempt to minimize the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles. (And my gut.) So my abs are sore.

And then our fantasy NBA league wrapped up, leaving me not in the bronze medal slot I had been aiming for, but in fourth place. FOURTH PLACE?! Fourth doesn't get any sort of medal. It's like the best loser place. If you're going to lose, you might as well lose. Fourth is like, "You almost made it, but oh, not quite."

I feel so much like Wilbur. He may have been "some pig," but that didn't get him the ribbon. I'm some pig (cue the crunches), and I see no ribbon.

The best part is that Mr. Bronze's strategy was to just play, play, play. I initially tried to strategically create my line ups and play smart, and I mocked those who didn't. But by the end, if you'll recall, I just wanted it to all be over. Like a bad dream. Just let me hit the ground already. I adopted Mr. Bronze's strategy, but it was like three dozen games too late.

I hate losing.

And my abs are sore.

So here's to being a totally sore loser.