I know what I'd do. I'd spend it on five magical words: An Evening With Digger Phelps.
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Just me and the little lady, curled up in my rumpus room with a bucket of Popeye's and a pitcher of manhattans, listening to the Silver Fox wax nostalgiac about Tracy Jackson and Orlando Woolridge... dissect the intricacies of the box-and-one... reenact his favorite scenes from "White Chicks" with finger puppets... and then cap off the magic with a rousing medley of Andrew Lloyd Webber show-stoppers.
How sweet would that be?
Answer: Not quite as sweet as According to Jim...On Ice!
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