The Daily Nuisance

Basketball Diary

Moving on, I went to see the Philadelphia 76ers play the Golden State Warriors last night, and I just have a few thoughts:

• The Warriors is a retarded name for a professional team. "Warriors" is a high school team name, always will be. It's like if the Yankees decided to change their name to the Bronx Bulldogs. The upside would be getting to ask my New York comrades how they feel about their entire city having gone gay.
• I honestly don't really care for watching most sports live, a notable exception being baseball. At home, the beer is cheap, the seat is soft, I don't drop $50 on the game (although this game was free...more on that momentarily), and my chances of getting head from an ex-cheerleader during halftime nearly double. Was the game interesting? Without a doubt, at times. But my ability to sit through 3 hours of sporting events without being able to look at porn on my laptop is just not what it used to be. At least I was drunk. Big surprise there.
• On the other hand, free tickets rule, particularly free seats that are normally $50. HP bought us the tix, although for the money CSC's shelled out for new servers over the past year, I should've been courtside, and getting head from a cheerleader at halftime.
• The game announcer was hilarious on several levels. One, and this one's fairly obvious, but the way he calls baskets. The other team makes a shot, and he announces the name of the player like he just snorted a quaalude through his eye socket. When a Sixer scores, he bellows "ALLEN IVERSON!" like somebody somebody stuck an eightball of Colombia's Finest up his rectum. The other hilarious thing about him, once we figured out which of the guys down on the floor he was, was watching him put the moves on the chick next to him. I'm not sure what her role in the proceedings was, but she was blond, had a nice rack, and a tight red shirt. I certainly don't blame the guy. Though maybe his wife does.
• Maybe I was hallucinating, but did Jack Daniel's suddenly start coming in a very strange bottle size? I bought something that I thought was my standard 375ml sneak bottle, but it seemed bigger. I could be wrong, though. The buzz didn't seem any different from drinking 2/3 of that bottle in 35 minutes than from drinking the usual. Side note: I'm out of JD at the house, almost. Very disturbing. But I'm determined to not buy any more whiskey until I make a better dent in what I've already got, which is a bottle of something called Virginia Gentleman that my compatriot Rod gave me, and a sizeable bottle of Maker's Mark. Side note #2: Maker's Mark is as good as they say. I try not to drink it unless it's a special occasion, 'cause it's damned expensive, but it's DAMN smoove. Good shit. Good shit.
• Nothing's as good as sharing a couple baconburgers from Wendy's with your spouse, except possibly for just eating her share while she gives you head. Not sure. Gotta try that sometime.
• I think I've mentioned head, what, three, maybe four times now? I'm getting desperate. Gotta get rid of this rash.

On another random topic, had a doctor's appointment this week. I appear to not be dying, but I am what is termed "Moderately Obese." Which pisses me off. If there's one thing I'm NOT about, it's moderation.

My Body Mass Index was something around 30.5. It's supposed to be around 24-25. What this all means is that a 6'3" person should ostensibly weigh 200 lbs. I'm like, whoa, whoa, whoa. Does the BMI take into account the "big boned" factor? In my case, being big boned skews the results. And I'm sure my skeleton is heavier than normal too. (HAR!)

So apparently I need to lose over 40 pounds. Which, I'm telling you, is not happening. I lost 15 last year (from 250), mainly because I had a fever of about 104 degrees for roughly 4 days and didn't eat for that whole week, plus I'm sure I shat out most of my innards in one long neverending liquid stream. It was a great diet. The best part was where I began hallucinating from the brain damage. (How many times have I mentioned hallucinations now? 2, maybe three? Man, I'm getting desperate. Gotta get rid of this rash.)

Anyway, I'm not likely to survive that diet a second time, so I'm trying the old fashioned way: not eating. Which means during the day I usually drink 6 or 7 large mugs of water and eat candy by the handful. I could exercise, but I'm a lazy fuck. What I really need to do is develop massive pecs, so they can hold my shirts up away from my gut and make me look totally ripped. I guess I could also just eat more food and try to develop tits. It's a win-win situation.