366 days ago, I decided to see what would happen if, on my two day-by-day calendars, I ripped away each day but never removed the remnant glue from the top of the calendar. Some people are anal about removing that stuff, spending precious seconds each day doing so, leaving their calendar prim and proper. That’s most certainly not me.

Plus, I wanted to see if I could make it the entire year.

The funny thing is, the more of that crap you leave at the top, the less you can tear away from each day’s sheet, which leads to more crap left over, which means you can’t tear as much off, and so on and so forth. Around May, five months in, the right-hand corners started becoming buried beneath the crap left over.

When I left for San Francisco in June, I had a sneaking suspicion that someone would try to clean up the crap left over. Most people are extraordinarily anal about their day-to-day calendar crap left over. Some people are annoyed when others do not share their anality. And a select few will become so incensed that they will stoop to removing someone else’s crap left over.

I couldn’t take that chance. So I safely stowed away my Dilbert and George Carlin calendars in a desk drawer, to be removed upon my return.

And as the leaves changed, and fall rolled in, the crap left over was becoming a scourge. People would comment on it. One guy said it reminded him of Howard Hughes (talk about off-the-wall references). By November, the date — theoretically the most important part of a calendar — was no longer visible, hidden beneath crap left over. I steeled my resolve to make it through the end of 06.

Well, folks, I made it. Look at that epic, awesome, inch-and-a-half crap. Its like a Meatloaf song from Bat Out Of Hell IV. Not the best song from the album, probably not even a single, but a solid B-side or album cut, without a doubt.

You bet.

Oh, the cruel twists of fate. Just like my Vikings have done in Super Bowls past, the Colt 45s choked this weekend. Took a dump on the 50 yard line. Pissed a victory down their leg. In a word, lose. And you know how I hate to lose.

Ironically enough, the Vikings defense got me 19 fantasy points — a big number for any position, but HUGE for a defense — and then my offensive guys did OK but not spectacular. To be fair, they would have had to have massive weeks to win, with what my opponent put up.

Drew Brees, 13-32 for 132 yards and a TD. Rudi Johnson, 30 rushes for 129 and a TD. Reggie Bush, 20 rushes for 120 and a TD. But my collection of jokers, stiffs and punk-ass stiffs got me nothing — Torry Holt’s Rams managed 37 points but he had no TD’s. Nice work. Reggie Brown’s Eagles had 23, and he had squat. Thanks for playing.

Iowa boy Nate Kaeding overachieved with 10 points. All totaled, 66.09 points — not a bad week, but not a great one either. A terrible week when your opponent nets 95.61.

Marc Bulger, 25-38 for 388 yards and 4 TDs. Ladell Betts, 29 rushes for 129 yards and 2 TDs. 15 fantasy points from Baltimore’s defense. He beat me with just those three guys. Frickin’ 3-on-7, and he wins. 67 points between those 3 guys alone.

Which was good for him, because his collection of jokers, stiffs and punk-ass stiffs got him nothing, either. Bryan Westbrook, Terrell Owens, Plaxico Burress and Jeff Wilkins had one TD combined (TO).

All totaled, I lose in a smackdown asskicking buffet, 95-66. If there’s any consolation, I did get a nice, crisp $50 bill for appearing in the Super Bowl. But alas, the Colt 45s were the runner-up, which meant the $150 winner’s pot went elsewhere.

Jokers, stiffs and punk-ass stiffs. Damn you.

You bet.

You bet.

For Christmas, my brother and I trade gag gifts. We trade-off years, meaning you only get to gag them once every other year. This also means you have to wait 12 months for payback.

This has been going on for years, but probably reached its apex when I was a Senior at Creighton and he was a Sophomore at UNI. That year, he had grown his hair out to ridiculous lengths, and its naturally curly. So he wound up with this mess of long, blonde, curly hair. At the exact same time, a guy named Justin Timberlake from a little-known band called N*Sync started wearing his hair the same way. When N*Sync hit the big time, the comparisons on the Northern Iowa campus began. He hated every minute of it, but not enough to cut his hair. Just like his older brother, he’s stubborn.

The best was at a Taco John’s in Cedar Falls, when the teenage girl taking his order started giggling and called him “Justin” no less than three times.

That Christmas, I bought him a “Justin Timberlake” marionette doll. Cost me $25 but it was well worth it.

Years ago, MGM released a box set of the 4 Rocky movies (I, II, III and IV) on VHS, but in a box big enough to hold 5 movies. The idea being, when V came out, you could buy it and put in the case to complete the set. Forward thinking in one respect, but they didn’t anticipate the DVD thing. Last year, my buddy Dick Herculanum gave me this set when he was cleaning out some old tapes. I had to laugh. Well, now, the long-awaited sequel to Rocky IV has arrived in the form of “Rocky Balboa”. If I can find it on VHS, I can complete this box as intended!

You bet.