If you are participating in this year's LMNOP Invitational,you must sign up and complete your bracket before tomorrow at 12:30 p.m. Eastern. Don't miss this chance to win a meaningless virtual plaque!
Details on entering are in Monday's post.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is officially that time again--time for you to enter your picks in everybody's* favorite March Madness pool! Believe it or not, the LMNOP Invitational is now in its fifth year, which is a very special milestone. Please celebrate by joining up and filling out a bracket! Here's how:
If you're having trouble, leave a comment on this post or e-mail me.
As always, the first place winner will be immortalized in the world famous LMNOP Hall of Fame, taking a seat among such famous individuals as last year's winner, my younger brother Michael. So sign up! Now!
*Requires a very loose interpretation of the word "everybody"Add this to the list of places I have to go before I die:
LMNOP Drive! It is in Owls Head, Maine, and it intersects with . . . QRS Drive. Obvi.
Not too un-recently, Twitter introduced a Lists feature, which lets you . . . make lists. I guess that's really the whole explanation to be had. So anyway, I made a list, and it just may appeal to you if you read this blog between oh, say, February 2007 and January 2008, and happen to remember its onetime companion blog, The Bathtub, which existed during that time. If that description applies to you (I had Cathy run the numbers, and there is, in fact, a 12 in 7,000,000,000 chance that it does), AND you are on Twitter (now we're down to six in 7,000,000,000), you just may be interested in following this list, which features 10 former Tubtributors. Some tubbers are not even on Twitter though, like Rory Porkham, who doesn't own a computer and may not even be alive anymore.
Tomorrow I go on vacation, so please excuse this site as it becomes overrun with tall grass and weeds and cobwebs for next week or so. I'll be back after the Fourth of July weekend, assuming I do not run away to become a cruise ship performer--which, quite honestly, is a strong possibility. I have always been intrigued by career paths involving headset microphones.
See ya!
Comments continue to trickle in on this three-year-old post, and in light of the most recent one, Michelle has asked me to post the following addendum to her recent, olive-branch-offering clarification post. Michelle says:
Needless to say, I think the olive branch has been revoked.
When I told my brother this weekend that he had a decent chance of winning the LMNOP Invitational, he had basically forgotten he'd even entered it. That is the kind of apathy I can truly appreciate, and it is with great pride that I unveil this plaque honoring the newest member of the LMNOP Hall of Fame.
The winner of the 4th Annual LMNOP Invitational is . . . .
This person. My brother.
A ceremonial induction into the Hall of Fame will follow. Please leave your congratulations in the comments.
(Video originally from this post.)
[Note: Just over three years ago, Michelle wrote a guest post for this blog "celebrating" National Athletic Trainer Month. Since then, that post has accumulated an array of bizarre, frequently grammatically-incorrect comments from disgruntled athletic trainers. Today, on the last day of National Athletic Trainer Month 2009, Michelle responds.]
Three years ago I helped LMNOP celebrate various professional awareness months with a lot of snark, some godawful poetry, and a very little bit of knowledge. Initially, these posts flew under the radar. It would seem, however, that some very half-assed googling led a few people to read one particular post about athletic trainers. A slow trickle of athletic training wrath has since spilled forth all over my post. This post was so infuriating, that it was literally required reading for an Oklahoma State University introductory course about athletic trainers.
Over the past 33 months I have been accused of being fat, ignorant and, worst of all, a dog walker. The average athletic trainer hates me. I assume that this is because they are naturally a miserable lot. However, it’s also possible that my interpretation of their job description (a college athlete’s less-educated physical therapist) was insulting. I also gather that athletic trainers do not enjoy being confused for personal trainers, as I originally made the mistake of doing.
At the urging of several commenters, including the actual professional organization (NATA) that sponsors athletic trainers awareness month, I decided to learn more about these angry, sad people. It turns out that a majority of athletic trainers hold a master’s degree, despite a median salary of only $36,590 in May 2006. This explains a lot. My low-paying job also requires a degree and it’s made me pretty spiteful. I can easily imagine how "uphalled" I would be if I read some flippant mockery of my job, after a long day of scurrying to the side of every college athlete with a muscle strain.
Though I can no longer say that an athletic trainer has never called me fat, I would like to extend an olive branch to all of my athletic trainer friends. Behold, two new cinquains! [For you cinquain sticklers, note that I have once again ignored the requirement of holding the first and last lines to only two syllables, because, as should be evident by now I do what I want.]
Athletic trainers
Are sensitive.
Sarcasm will be met
With furious and poorly spelled
insults.
Athletic trainers
work pretty hard
helping injured people
just to be confused with
physical trainers.
Here’s hoping that small press owners never learn how to use the internet, because I don’t think I could handle a multi-front war.
