One of my greatest pleasures in life is getting on peoples nerves. It doesn't matter who it is, my boss, the person sitting next to me, that dude with the lazy eye who gives me my morning coffee at McDonalds, I'll invariably do/say/provoke something entirely inappropriate to make the situation 100% awkward. For them.
Case in point. If you're a faithful reader (and if you aren't, then why not?), then you know that I've been working the night shift for the past few days. Now normally you'd be concerned. Is The Kid getting enough sleep? Are his biorhythms in check? Do we need to alert any authorities? To put you at ease: yes, yes, and not yet.
You see, I have 4 other people working with me, with the occasional worker bee that comes in to draw blood or suction lung butter out of my ventilated dude, to provoke. And my weapon of provocation (what?) lately has telling long winded stories about my junior high basketball career.
Long story short, I was the tallest kid in my junior high class, listed at 5'10" but played like I was 5'11". I had more armpit hair than the rest of the junior high combined. I was an adolescent freak of nature who couldn't play basketball to save his life. But don't let that fool you. I shattered dreams, I shattered records, and when it was all said and done I shattered the ladies hearts.
I think I played, in my two year junior high basketball career, a total of 1 minute and 13 seconds. But I can milk that 73 seconds for all it's worth, making every deft pass an ESPN hi lite, every 3 point shot made (all 2 of them) a dagger in the heart of the opposition, every vicious bone crushing screen a statement of my white awesomeness. Case in point, I have spent over 3 hours following one of the nurses around telling him over and over again about my ridiculous jump shot. Granted, although both of my jump shots that I made in junior high were pretty much from NBA range, they were honestly desperation shots since everyone else on the team was covered and I didn't know how to dribble. One shot (which was nothing but net thank you very much) I literally heard an elderly woman in the stands say "That kid has the wettest J on the team!" The man was flexing his muscles and the fans liked what they saw. I could bring the rain.
How do I get 3 hours out of that? Very carefully, and with exacting detail. I figure I'm about 17 minutes away from getting a restraining order put against me.
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