What a bad day. My team got upset today, and then I try to make a teensy-weensy bit of small talk with the man who answered my call at the Holiday Inn in San Francisco's Fisherman's Wharf and he tries to get me to end my call in a way that sounds like he's in the middle of getting his dick blown. Geez, I don't think San Francisco is a nice town.

Maybe this is all payback. I was a bit snippy to both my grandmother (before she left for the simulcasts at the track) and my uncle (who did nothing but help fix our van). This day blows.