Let the games begin! I'm in the process of moving out of my apartment, and the internet was set to be canceled today. It must have been EST time or something because when I tried to get on late night to submit all my picks disaster struck. The neighbors, kind or silly enough to not have a password on their wireless, turned out to be having unrelated problems. It made for a dramatic night.... "Ah well," Charlie though to himself. "They're only games. Who cares if I miss a suicide pool, a YCWJ, a SkanCan, a racketbracket, a BOTB? It's not as if I would even win a fake medal, or a real Canadian coin, or bragging rights over those damn Brits. No big whoop, right?" He tossed and turned. The mostly empty apartment had just transformed into a prison, a barren wasteland where madness would surely overtake him. Deep breaths did nothing. Trying to sleep was pointless. Lounging and listening to his favorite podcast only delayed the pain. At 6:30 in the morning, with nary a wink of rest, a grim determination overtook him. Charlie would be damned if he missed out on the ridiculous fun. He opened the door and was greeted with a shocking chill, the sign that summer has come and gone. With a sigh, he dug out some long pants that hadn't been worn in months. Tighter than he remembered, Charlie deduced he wouldn't be comparing his thighs to Christmas hams if he would stop eating at McDonald's. With that, he set off to McDonald's. A mile and a half of brisk walking, a connection to free wi-fi, and a slammed 32 oz Diet Coke later, he could rest easy. He had gotten his picks in on time.