FanPost

RRRR: The Swallow Your Pride Crew

Alright, listen up kids. Have a seat over there. Yeah, in the corner. No, you can't have any Pop Rocks, Lil Jimmy. Not until I get this off my chest.

Look, sometimes you're just wrong. Wrong and pig-headed. Or you think your tastes are soooo great, so much better than your peers. Your cohorts. Your own flesh and blood, fer chrissakes. You like something, or dislike something, for no good reason, and you think you can just spout off at the mouth, blabbing away about your always-amazing cultural choices. I'm guilty, too, guys. It's okay to confess this, and I expect all of you to scribble your transgressions below. Recently I've had a couple experiences that made me look, well, foolish.

A few weeks ago, I watched a Bulls game almost in its entirety. It was sort of a mistake; I never watch basketball. As many of you know, I go out of my way to avoid that whole hub-bub. The youngest brother is a huge Bulls fan, and very occasionally I'll take him to a game, which is the only time I would really watch. That happened exactly twice. It's a good, wholesome older-bro activity, and it was either that or dipping into my rainy-day fund to provide seed money for his cocaine distribution business. Birthday present-type stuff, ya know? I could give a variety of reasons for never giving a shit, but it's the mostly-normal complaints of anyone that doesn't watch the sport. I'm not a complete dick, though; I'm not going to stand here and say that basketball players are "lazy," or that it's an "easy" sport. They aren't and it's not; I normally just find it incredibly boring. But, hey, the game was on, and they were playing the Heat.

I gotta say, I enjoyed it. The damn thing was exciting, start to finish. D-Rose was out, so the Bulls were under-gunned, but they still pulled it off with panache. And I'm pretty sure the last two minutes took fewer than forty-five minutes, which was a plus. I might even... wait for it... watch again at some point. Especially since the playoffs are even more exciting, and the Hawks have been supremely disappointing almost all season.

And the second thing, I gotta tell you... No, FUCK, SIT. DOWN. Christ. You all got ants in your pants, I swear, every frikken... ANYWAY. The second thing is that I bought a lottery ticket tonight, for the first time ever. Yeah, I know. Two, actually. I'm still here, aren't I? ‘Course I didn't... And that's really the thing, right? Of course you're not going to win, and that's just smashed into every half-bright brain from a young age. One in two hundred million actually means that. Crazy but true, I KNOW. But everyone at work... some of you may have jobs with other people... I don't care. Pretty much everyone at work was all caught up in it. It was hard not to be. Everyone spending the money in their head, randomly yelling out to anyone that would listen. "I'm gonna buy an island." "I'm gonna start a chain of restaurants." Here I am being practical: I promised them I would call a lawyer first thing, then buy them lunch. No, dick. From Wendy's. I ain't that cheap. Yes, I know. I want a Frosty now, too.

Alright, get the hell outta here.

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