(Ohhhh noes! Tiger Woods haz gotz the pneumonia!)
Sorry about not blogging for a while. I have been watching all the Mavs games, I promise. Funny thing happened though. I got that nasty flu that was going around. Then I kept it. My lungs held onto it like a stripper holds onto her GED. So after three weeks I went to the doctor finally. Turns out I had walking pneumonia for three weeks. Yes, I am just that tough. It's this robust German blood goose-stepping through my veins.
So SXSW is coming up which means that in a week or so, I will be wandering the streets of Austin with my cattle brand (badge) and my distaste for most people in the music industry on display. Seriously, South by Southwest is a beating. I just hope that another balcony collapses or something equally awesome and destructive happens. Because last year was pretty destructive, you know:
Last year's Jerk-fest
Back to the Mavericks. I attended last night's game. It was shitty. I don't care if Dirk was not in the game. I care about the fact that the Mavs are completely cripplingly terrified of the basket. So much so that a grand edict was issued that all shots must be taken from at least 20 feet away from said evil, yucky basket. I have no idea how the Mavs managed to be so awful last night. I have never gone to a Mavs game and not left with a promise of a free taco. Not only did I *NOT* get a free taco, I witnessed my preferred choice of NBA basketball franchises suck ass in a spectacular fashion. At least Barea hit two threes. But guess what he can't do? Guard. Anyone. Ever. Anywhere. At any time. He sometimes seems to be waving his hands in the air as to distract whoever has the ball. Kind of like you do to dogs.
Since the game and the Mavs playing barely merits anything other than scorn and shame and diapers full of rancid applesauce hurled in their general direction, I will address some of the more peripheral aspects of the game.
#1. I'm pretty sure I may die in a freakish Chili's coupon balloon accident.
#2. Mavs Man is fucking terrifying. When I see him on TV, I cringe. When I see him on the floor interacting with children, I want to call CPS. But that all pales in comparison to when I am sitting in my seat, sipping my $7 Bud Light and I am told to turn around. When I do, I recoil in horror because MAVS MAN IS SITTING RIGHT BEHIND ME, RAPING THE BACK OF MY HEAD WITH HIS BURN VICTIM EYES!
#3. I think I saw a lady of the night fallen on hard times giving a grandfatherly character a hand job in the section next to mine. Might as well, it's not like the game was going that well.
#4. Acrobazia are rad. Just google it. Trust.
#5. If I don't die in that Chili's coupon balloon disaster, I will spend the rest of my days hunting down whoever invented the Nutty Bavarian cart and exacting my revenge upon them and their foul smelling product. Seriously, that's a pretty pungent product you're selling there.
That being said, if Avery Johnson keeps coaching like this I can only hope that 24 hours a day his nostrils are filled with the smell of Nutty Bavarian and the mental image of Mavs Man mouth-breathing and watching him sleep.
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