Sophisticated

Happy Independence Day! I know that's a day late, but hey, take what you get. Before we get started I must say that I have a ton of things to share, most of them not related to sports. This is a problem I am coming across now that basketball is over. I mean there is only so much baseball one can talk. Well, to be honest I could talk baseball all day, but that would only bore most of you. So I will try to mix in sports here and there, but mostly I will just try to get something funny up.

Two more quick things. First, the girl I work with called in "sick" today. Jerk. Now I am stuck here with most everyone I know taking the day off, and me trying to catch everything up from the weekend. Second, typing is very hard right now. This is a result of the gash that runs from the top of my right index finger to the bottom, and I swear this baby is deep. In fact, I was gonna call in sick today, or just leave early and go to the hospital to get stitches, but it looks like thats out of the picture. So until I can do that, I will brave the nerve damage and type on. Tell me where you get that kind of dedication in any other blog?...Anyone?...No?... That's right! No where but here, baby!

If you ever heard the story of how Ronnie Lott elected to have his finger chopped off in the middle of a football game rather than sit out with a finger injury, then you know how I feel right now. I am one hundred percent sure that this will get me into the Iron Man Hall of Fame. This is my moment. Next stop, enshrinement.

Ok, moving on to the story...

So Saturday night featured a few of us going to a Karaoke Bar to show off what we've got. We were surprised to find the bar doing a talent contest beforehand in the form of a "Gong Show." One of the contestants had a "talent" of being able to take all the letters of a given word and put them in alphabetical order (i.e. dog would be d-g-o. Get it? Good). Now I know what you're thinking, and I don't consider this a talent either. I mean this falls somewhere between wiggling your ears and doing two cartwheels in a row. Maybe we can't all do it, but we could try, or we could try our best and just make up an excuse when it gets too hard--which is exactly what this guy did.

This guy is up on stage doing his thing and waiting for people to yell out words for him to alphabetize. Naturally, my brain starts stewing and searching for ways to trip him up. So I yell out "Sophisticated!" from the front table. He looks me dead in the eyes, pauses, then says "I don't know how to spell that." Then he moves on as if nothing happened and starts doing easy words again. I look at Chad, with my "did I just stump him, but he decided to take a 'pass' rather than be beaten?" look on my face. Prompting Chad and I to boo him.

I got one for you, buddy. Hit the gong!

Now some might think the story would end there, but many of you know my showmanship and my ruthlessness for showing people up when they deserve it, and this was one night I was not about to hold back.

So karaoke starts and me, RT, and Chad do our typical Afternoon Delight which is always a crowd favorite. I decide that I am gonna throw out the masterpiece that is the seven and a half minute long ballad known as Rapper's Delight. Now this is one of the hardest rap songs to do, mainly because its long, fast-paced, and there are no brakes in it; which consequently, lead you to become very winded if you're not careful. Now, I have my 9th grade year of high school to thank for this song. I didn't really know anyone yet in Oakland, so I had far too much spare time to sit in my room and listen to music. I also had a job where I held a sign outside every weekend for 6 hours, with only a Discman at my side. Needless to say, I may have been an awkward looking fifteen year old, but I was jammin out daily. I would spend countless hours listening to much of the same songs over and over, one of these being Rapper's Delight. As one can imagine, after of a few weeks of owning In Tha Beginning, There Was Rap, I had conquered the song that most only dream of. Ok, so let's get back to Saturday night...

As Paul will tell you, I can do Rapper's Delight almost flawlessly when I am shit-faced. Well, I was close to shit-faced that night, but maybe a notch or two down, which meant that I was giving 110% effort and stage presence. Combine that with the D.J. throwing in back-up vocals and we were untouchable. Playing the crowd, calling out friends at the table, and just rocking the mic. These are the fleeting moments of fame we all grasp for in our introverted lives. For 7 and a half minutes, I owned that place.

Am I exaggerating? I'd like to think not. Either way, when it was all said and done I walked out with fifty dollars the DJ gave me for tearing it up, and had all my drinks paid for by RT's dad for my "monster" performance--even going so far as to call me "a real man's man." Even some guy who rapped Jay-Z earlier in the night had to come up and shake my hand. The only unimpressed person there was Chad who looked bored out of his mind due to the fact that he has seen me so this same routine for the last year or so. Kind of like that guy who goes to like fifteen shows of his favorite band during a summer tour and audibly compares the performance to a better one that was earlier in the tour. Somehow you "are so missing out" by seeing the Dallas performance rather than the one in New York that he paid three hundred bucks for. I hate that guy. Regardless, no matter how much I really had that place in my hands, I one upped that jerk-o guy from before.

Beat that lame-o Alphabet Man!