Counterpoint: You Found Me?

Today, between 6:30 and 6:55 am, 13 meanderthals awoke before the crack of dawn and approached Krown Kastle ready to do battle. Where were you?

When everything was falling apart, 13 slackers and stoners abandoned their studies in pursuit of babes, budd, and bids in what promises to be the second soggy Trouble in Vegas Tournament in as many years. I spent all my day by the telephone, waiting for a safe arrival call from Jake. He calls me his bitch. It never rang. Call your bitch, bitch. All I needed was a call. It never came / To the corner of 54th and Maryland.

Lost and insecure, I found junkultimate.blogspot.com. Lying on the floor, surrounded by Jake's previously unopened textbooks and an as-of-then full bottle of moisturizer, I asked myself, Why'd you have to wait? I then splooged all over Jake's Natural Hazards book. Where were you? WHERE WERE YOU?

The rest of us, nine ferocious and nubile studs, disembarked from the Swilly City at various times and descended upon a place that our current president readily acknowledges is a moral and financial sieve (before he was forced to take it back).

Holy credit buttons and chip trays, Newman! We're going to Vegas! Let's try not to get our panties in a bind, shall we? This is a tournament just like any other tournament, except more wet and there's no sanctioned party. With this in mind, no one should look forward to this tournament any more than, say, White Smoke or Blow-It-Out-Your-Disc. We should approach this tournament with a great deal more composure than this sophomore appears capable of. We are a halfway decent team and if we "play our cards right," we just might have a chance of making it back to Chicago at the end of the weekend with our integrity and our buttholes intact.

Things to focus on:

(on the field...)

-catching with two hands

-throwing crisp but considerate passes

-not dropping the pull

(off the field...)

-drinking water

-giving fellow teammates constructive criticism

-not puking last night's champagne

I think that each of these tasks will take a great deal of focus to accomplish repeatedly, but I have the confidence that everyone except JMo will be able to do them all passably. We all have our weaknesses, and we need to cover for each other. When JMo is coughing up fizzy bile on Saturday morning, somebody is going to have to take his place as cutter/nudist. When Hupps briefly forgets he has a girlfriend, proceeds to hit on Qxchna, and gets taken away in a paddywagon for being a pedophile, someone is going to have to man up and sky some chumps. And when Jake finally grows a pair...well, let's not kid ourselves here folks.