Much as it repulses me to type those words, one must stand strong for one's love of the SEC and one's virulent hatred of Fat Charlie Weis. (Also, I've got a bet going with my cubicle-mate wherein he will be required to wear a furry tiger tail for an entire day if LSU wins. If the Irish emerge victorious, it's a leprechaun hat for me. He required me to seal this wager with a fist-bump, which means it's irrevocably binding.)
Update via Joan: "Prediction for the Sugar Bowl? Brady Quinn passes presentably, but it's not enough to save Notre Dame from the glistening, drunken jaws of the LSU Tigers, and his several impressive TD completions will only make him more enticing to the horrific Detroit Lions and Oakland Raiders, which will explain his psychotic break with reality in a post-game interview with Holly Rowe in which he gazes blankly into the camera and sucks the sweat off the end of his drooping brunette locks while faintly humming that song about the Blarney Stone."
Tell them any of the following lies to get out of work on time:
a) You need to go home and pick up your neighbor's cat and take care of it (true, if you consider the LSU Tigers to be cats, Baton Rouge to be your neighbor, and interpret "taking care of" as swilling malt liquor and throwing brightly colored beads at your television screen.)
b) Scatter some sugar from a New Orleans refinery over your desk, stare moodily into space, and then run through your office, desperate, nude, and streaked with toner, screaming to anyone who will listen that you came from the future and you have to get back. After security escorts you out, go to the nearest sports bar.
c) Announce haughtily that you're going to watch the Sugar Bowl, and if anyone questions your decision, snarl that you come from the SEC and you don't have to justify yourself to anyone whose conference has less than 9 teams competing in the bowl games. (Not so much a lie as the unvarnished truth.)