Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Lynyrd Skynyrd '1991'

As you can tell, I haven’t updated this thing in over a week. I’ve been in a really bad funk because I’ve had to return my Rams gold and blue Escalade. I lost money buying a one-way, first class ticket to St. Louis. And now I’m stuck with a silver grill that slips over my front teeth. It’s not like I can wear it anytime I want… Since there’s St. Louis Rams all over the thing, it would be an insult to my lifelong following of the Washington Redskins. And I can’t sell it because it was custom fitted for me.

I’m bummed because it wasn’t me that was drafted by the St. Louis Rams. It was some cat from West Texas A&M that is riding high. Again, not me.

Deep down inside, it was too good to be true. To be totally honest… I thought The Secret was finally giving me what I wanted. An ultra-huge mansion complete with cock fighting ring in the basement (people are still too touchy about the dog fighting deal), a gas-sucking SUV with a big screen plasma HD-TV in the back, and strippers, strippers, strippers. Oh, and I forgot to mention firearms. I wanted plenty of firearms and maybe a leopard.

My dreams came crashing down when I finally got someone in the Rams’ front office. The intern that I spoke to was laughing his ass off when I asked about picking up my signing bonus, when training camp starts, and how many tickets I could get for friends and family.

He told me that I was one stupid mother… You get the rest.

I hung up the phone and immediately returned the Escalade and cancelled a few hundred checks. I also had to call off the three strippers that were home shopping in St. Louis for me. It was horrible!

I’m not too happy with The Secret these days. Reality bites, my friends. And she really clamped down on my gonads this time.

But I’m not going to harbor any bad feelings for the Eugene Sims that signed on with the Rams. I’m going to follow the guy’s career simply because he has the same name that I do. I mean, seriously… When will I ever have a more famous namesake?

First of all, just about everyone has a song out there with their name in the title. Eugene is no exception. The only one I know of is Pink Floyd’s “Careful With That Axe, Eugene”. This, of course, gives the general public that Eugene’s aren’t the most decent guys on the planet. Perhaps they’re homicidal maniacs.

And second, Eugene’s are portrayed as some of the geekiest people on Earth. People expect that anyone named Eugene must be socially inept or extremely disturbed.

So I will follow this cat and see if he brings any honor to the name I have. Hell, he can’t hurt it any.

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