The next Zinedne Zidane right here mother fuckers.
What's the stupidest thing you've done this week? Think hard. I garuntee I can top it. Kevin thought he could beat me by lighting his hair on fire while attempting to light his eyebrow piercing on fire but he couldn't. (Well, maybe we tied...) Ben though he could top me by being Polish. Brian even went so far as to drink a lot of rum and pass out in the stairs of our building while trying to go down them and outside. You amateurs.
As you may or may not be aware, I'm pretty anamured with soccer right now thanks to the World Cup (Iiiitallllyyyy! FUCK YEAH!). In light of my new found love I went out and bought myself a soccer ball. I'v never had a nice, regulation size ball so I decided I needed one. Here is how the first five minutes of it being out of the box go.
I take it out back to do some dribbling and a little shooting. Dribble, dribble, dribble, juke, dribble, shot at the wall, GOOOAAALL! This little fantasy goes on for a short while. At this point I decide to pratice head balls by throwing it at the house just above the garrage. Now if you've ever been to my house and seen the proximity of my parernts' bedroom window to the the garage doors, you probably have a pretty good idea where this is headed...
On one particualr bounce off the wall I get a little carried away and take a kick, attempting to pop it up in the air. Into the air it most certainly goes. Directly towards my parents' bedroom window. Time essentialy slows to about the same rate as the pulse of an Olympic marathon runner at the South Pole taking a nap. My brain is telling me it's OK. Glass is strong. Soccer balls aren't really that hard. You didn't put THAT much force into that kick. You're twenty years old and are batting goose eggs in the window breaking department. Years of baseball, street hockey, soccer, and football with the other neighborhood kids never even yielded a broken gutter, much less a shattered window. Relax. There is no way that ball is going to go through that window.
It was at about this point that the ball went directly through two panes of glass, bounced off the screen, and fell (along with many brand new pieces of glass) to the ground in front of me. The ball bounced a few times and stoped in the mulch along the driveway. The glass slammed into the concrete and shattered, only shrieking at the very instant of its dissipation into vapor like specks of sand and dust.
I couldn't believe it. I wanted to hit reset. I wanted a genie to grant me one wish. I wanted Jesus himself to descend from Heaven and turn this shitty wine back into the clear and crip water it had been before. Leaning my head forward and shaking it slightly while closing my eyes, I muttered "Son of a bitch." Those were not the magic words, it seemed.
I'll finish this story later including spell check.
As you may or may not be aware, I'm pretty anamured with soccer right now thanks to the World Cup (Iiiitallllyyyy! FUCK YEAH!). In light of my new found love I went out and bought myself a soccer ball. I'v never had a nice, regulation size ball so I decided I needed one. Here is how the first five minutes of it being out of the box go.
I take it out back to do some dribbling and a little shooting. Dribble, dribble, dribble, juke, dribble, shot at the wall, GOOOAAALL! This little fantasy goes on for a short while. At this point I decide to pratice head balls by throwing it at the house just above the garrage. Now if you've ever been to my house and seen the proximity of my parernts' bedroom window to the the garage doors, you probably have a pretty good idea where this is headed...
On one particualr bounce off the wall I get a little carried away and take a kick, attempting to pop it up in the air. Into the air it most certainly goes. Directly towards my parents' bedroom window. Time essentialy slows to about the same rate as the pulse of an Olympic marathon runner at the South Pole taking a nap. My brain is telling me it's OK. Glass is strong. Soccer balls aren't really that hard. You didn't put THAT much force into that kick. You're twenty years old and are batting goose eggs in the window breaking department. Years of baseball, street hockey, soccer, and football with the other neighborhood kids never even yielded a broken gutter, much less a shattered window. Relax. There is no way that ball is going to go through that window.
It was at about this point that the ball went directly through two panes of glass, bounced off the screen, and fell (along with many brand new pieces of glass) to the ground in front of me. The ball bounced a few times and stoped in the mulch along the driveway. The glass slammed into the concrete and shattered, only shrieking at the very instant of its dissipation into vapor like specks of sand and dust.
I couldn't believe it. I wanted to hit reset. I wanted a genie to grant me one wish. I wanted Jesus himself to descend from Heaven and turn this shitty wine back into the clear and crip water it had been before. Leaning my head forward and shaking it slightly while closing my eyes, I muttered "Son of a bitch." Those were not the magic words, it seemed.
I'll finish this story later including spell check.