On the cusp of a new year, I am sad. The Bears are playing the Packers tonight in Soldier Field in what might be Brett Favre's last game. I should be there, but I won't. My folks got me tickets for the game, which I received on Christmas morning, along with a new firetruck and tickle-me-Elmo doll. Unfortunately, I work in a restaurant. Not knowing I would have the opportunity to go to the game, I was scheduled to work, all day, all night. After calling some of my coworkers, I quickly realized getting out of the shift wasn't in the cards. Seeing Brett Favre throw a record setting interception, while being eliminated from the playoffs, would not be my fate. Both tickets passed to my brother, Timmy. I wished him Godspeed to tailgating and kickoff at noon.

But wait, much like the evil Sauron himself, NBC, capitalizing on the "Brett Favre might retire frenzy," (now in it's third year and running) invoked their powers to claim the game as the Sunday evening game. Here it changes from a sad day for Phil, to a screw job of my brother and the entire city.

Timmy is a New Years baby. He and his girlfriend have twenty-five people coming over for his birthday, as well as, a New Years celebration. The guests are set to arrive around eight p.m. Scratch Timmy from the list of fans passing through the turnstiles tonight.

This is a common enough story throughout the city and suburbs of Chicago. Parties are in conflict. Parking in the city is fucked. Restaurants are scrambling to provide t.v.'s in dining rooms to hold reservations. Mayor Daley, I'm sure, is already planning his revenge. Make NBC pay, make them pay.

Happy New Year's everyone. Go Bears!