Week 10-I think

Bloggers block. Man, what a conundrum. One time after a game President Freeborn asked me, “what are you going to write about? Nothing happened in there.” I was younger then, more cock sure of myself, it was in the mid-eighties when blogging was still new and cocaine was king. As a result I had no fears about my ability to make “drama out of the pea soup pickings” that are the AFBL. But now I’ve settled down. And there are close to 200 million blogs that are no longer updated according to analysts according to thesmokingsection.net. And lets just say that this totally unverified fact is true. It sounds great doesn’t it? Well, fear not I shan’t allow the AFBLog to die the unceremonious death that so many other blogs die. And apparently neither will our close personal friend Jimbo Houser. That guy is all over this thing. “I like writing on the blog,” says Houser, “i like ‘community’ type stuff , like the AFBL and junk.”

Okay, you say, enough tap dancing faggot, lets get some AFBL dirt. We get it, you continue to say, you don’t have anything to write about? Indeed that would appear to be the case. This weekends’ basketball was a pretty uneventful event. I played the best I’ve played with an MJ-pretending-to-be-sick-so-we-feel-better-about-him-esque performance. My stomach was cramping with a gnarly disease that needed to escape as soon as I got home in the most unpleasant manifestation my toilet bowl could have encountered. That’s as polite as I can put it. And I lost my voice with some sort of head cold or congestion enhanced by the AFBL. But I won’t talk about my illness, instead I’ll talk about my sickness. I made jumpers and lay-ups! Something I haven’t done in years. Not very many jumpers and lay-ups, but not very many is very many more that I usually make. And since I barely noticed anything else happening it’s the best I have to report as a recap, so climb the fuck off.

HOUSER WATCH: Week 10, A Bearded Scion

When I started this blog, I feared that this day would come, that I’d not have much to write. I wasn’t as worried about the game. I always figured there’d be something to say about the game. I mean, I’m in the same place for three hours, something has to happen, right? Well maybe not. I was more concerned that I’d have nothing to add for the Houser Watch. Well, that is the dumbest fear I could ever have. This guy is non-stop material. I might quit blogging to write about him full time. He kicked a basketball last week, which made me very excited. I gave him a high five. Then I kicked a ball in frustration and he responded in kind. But is that exciting, even moderately? No-that’s S.O.P. on the Houser Watch.

Jimmy inquired to my whereabouts last week. My answer:



And if you’re wondering, the red dot means I was comped. Bitches. What can I say? I know people. So, I missed the first game of 2007. Not that the New Year means very much. There is an old Calvin and Hobbes comic where Calvin laments the dearth of tangible scientific progress as the calendar turns over. In 1989 Calvin said, “Yeah, big deal! Hmph. Where are the flying cars? Where are the moon colonies? Where are the personal robots and the zero-gravity boots, huh? You call this a new decade?! You call this the future?? HA! Where are the rocket packs? Where are the disintegration rays? Where are the floating cities?” Maybe I should be happy that 2007 arrove (?) with no difficulties. But I’m not. When will a New Year actually mean something significant? Sure Steve Jobs kicked the year off proper with his little iphone, but where is the real change? Scientists should save all their discoveries and progress and release them on Black Friday. Then we have all of December to appreciate them and when the New Year occurs we can think to ourselves, “boy it’s a totally different world.” But no, scientists, if they are making any progress, release their work as they finish. Fools.

I echo Calvins sentiments. Where are the flying cars? I drove to the game last Saturday, in a regular car. What a nightmare. Between the smoke that came billowing out from my hood on the drive home and the pain in the ass that is parking I don’t understand why anyone ever drives. Especially if they, I don’t know, live in the area of McCall like Mr. Houser. Well Jim why do you do it? I’m blaming the driving for my dearth of capabilities as far as re-capping is concerned.

I think driving makes people dumber. Every week Houser drives to the games. This week while I was looking for parking when I saw Houser driving in front of me. My associate, Kevin Henderson, who was in the car said, “He drives a fucking Scion!” It’s true Houser does drive a Scion. And in the first instance of Houser effectively playing defense, he- by the happenstance of his driving in front of me -grabbed a parking spot before I could.

This early defense didn’t translate to the court, but he made up for it on offense. Jimmy played pretty well last Saturday making all kinds of posted up turn arounds on me near the basket. I think it’s his new beard. Houser, a man that once gave Kevin flack for his excessively hairy ways has gone beardo. It looks good on him, it brings out the crazy in him even more. The next day while watching football with Mr. Henderson I mentioned that maybe Houser was going after Henderson for the AFBeardL title, since he’ll never get a scoring title with me defending him. Kevin seemed unworried by the prospect. All he could say was that Houser’s beard made his head look like his car. Houser Watch fans, what do you think?



1 Comment

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One response to “Week 10-I think

  1. the equation that governs my life is :

    “is the distance your body needs to travel to your destination longer than the length of your car ? then DRIVE . ”

    fuck bikes . what am i , eight ?

    oooh !!! pop a wheeeelie !

    i have gotten tickets for parking in front of the fire hydrant across the street from my house, rather than drive a few blocks to look for a spot i would then have to walk home from.

    that shit is BALLER .

    oh that that pic ? yeah i figured how to only smoke weed out of the left side of my mouth , so just the left side of my head gets stoned .

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