Saturday, April 29, 2006

I sit here watching sports center, drinking vanilla Smirnoff and diet pepsi (cha-ching) contemplating a lakers clippers playoff series (cue ragnarok) and sighing in wonderment to the heavens at the idea of that which for the nonce at least in this space shall remain unsaid.

And, whoah nelly a la hooly shit, Mario Williams #1 to the Houston Texans. I’m no sports desk, but reggie bush not going #1? Wacky. Wacky quadaffy.

It’s been too long, contingent (donde esta?) since I blabbed at you like this. Without a care in the world. Just you and me and the darkness make three, don’t forget betty the shitzu, and, ya know, these are special times, and vodka is valuable. I mean, what do you think, that Russia fell in a day?

I honestly don’t know. About the history of vodka or the ussr. And I know a little bit about the latter and zero hero of the former.

Will this Mario thing go down as a sam bowie Michael Jordan dillio? I mean, who the hell would have ever preliminated this? It’s just inedible.

Will reggie price himself out of the market? I mean, yes, it’s impossible, but he’s gonna wheel plus deal, I mean, he’s gotta pay off his folk’s illegal (er, ncaa rules violating) casa from Michael Michaels. His compatriot john Johnson will be representing me in carpeteria’s lawsuit against Michael irvin’s suit. Not lawsuit, suit that you wear. That is literally inedible, not that all suits aren’t, but this one is unviewable.

Michael Irvin is a crack smoking jackass, but I think he does an excellent job at it.

No more sports talk, I promise.

For the next 5 minutes.