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Monday, February 07, 2005

My Four-Wheeled Motorcycle

Before I begin, I’d just like to clarify something. When I say “my car,” I mean the car my parents are lending me for a few months until I save up some money for a down payment on Larry’s successor. OK, here we go.

After enjoying a beautiful 50-degree day on Sat., I climbed into my car and headed north for Portland to visit my friend Sol and his g/f Alicia. They’ve been dating since high school. I really like spending time w/ them, esp. at their house. I can’t explain it, but it’s just a nice atmosphere. They’ve got that married chemistry I’ve never seen between my parents. And Alicia always cooks delicious meals to put in front of me. It’s amazing.

Anyway, I left around 5pm after packing an overnight bag and my Patriots-watching outfit (superstition requires me to wear the same clothes for each Pats postseason game). I would’ve left for Portland earlier, but my car is currently experiencing some technical difficulties. It basically sounds like I’m driving a giant motorcycle through the streets, which is why I like to travel in darkness. I can’t handle the stares. I get enough of those from humans of the opposite sex when I’m walking by.

Alicia had dinner ready when I arrived two hours later (pizza and salad), which forced me to contemplate a permanent move up to P-Town. We eventually made our way to the bar where two women immediately complimented me on my shirt. This shouldn’t warrant mentioning, but it was the first time I’d worn it and it only set me back six bucks at Express. That place has the best sales, I say. The best.

Fast forward to yesterday, the Super Bowl, the least climactic game of the Pats’ postseason this year. Seriously, this was the first game in which we had nothing to prove. We’d already shut down the NFL’s best offense, and followed that w/ 41 points on the league’s top-rated defense. Now we were matched up against the JV champions, an Eagles team that likes to talk. Even when their star trash-talker went down, a bench warmer stepped up to fill the void. I guess you need to be from Philly to root for this team, unless you’ve been infected w/ McNabb fever. I like the guy, and his soup, but I can’t list him as one of the league’s premier quarterbacks. I’m sorry, but I just can’t. OK, we’re getting off topic here.

So Sol and I spent Sunday afternoon watching the Celtics game, followed by past Patriots Super Bowl highlights on ESPN2. We also managed to make it outside for a half hour to throw the football around. Alicia filled our bellies w/ turkey sandwiches, spinach and artichoke dip, cheese and crackers, and meatball subs for dinner. Meanwhile, back in Africa, a small tribe feasted on berries and beetles.

Some quick highlights from the game that made the dynasty official:

Alicia: You know, Sol (my most mild-mannered friend), there are a lot of people who’d be shocked to see how you act when you watch sports (shouting profanities angrily).
Sol: Fuck ‘em.

Me: Wanna play swords (as I cut in front of Sol as we raced for the bathroom)?
Sol: Um….
Me: NO!

Oh, and if you have a video phone, I will be more than happy to send you my 15-second film entitled “Sol’s Celebration After Harrison’s Second Pick Sealed the Game.”

Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in our HOUSE.

If anyone was wondering, Rodney Harrison had more catches than Freddie “The People’s Chump” Mitchell. Bravo, Freddie. Bravo. Be sure to bring something to read at the unemployment office.


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