Does every guy realize at some point in his life that his friends are completely terrifying, or is that just me? It's like having an eccentric relative. Growing up, he was just a beloved quirky figure, always good for a giggle or two with his wacky ways. But then one day you come home from school early to find him biting the heads off of pigeons in the backyard. Oh, you still giggle, but it's those weird, high-pitched giggles that sound vaguely like sobs. Also, you can't help but pee your pants a little. Not a good situation, and that's kinda where I was at 3 AM on Saturday.
Thankfully, I don't need friends any more since I got Halo 2. Before you laugh at how a supposedly "grown man" gets so worked up over his video games, think about if we really DID go to war with the aliens. Who do you want manning the turret on your warthog ATV: your Uncle Lester, who gets the shakes from his gout medication, or me, the guy who's spent literally hundreds of hours preparing for the situation? There's a reason the aliens won't be calling any strikes down on McNeil Drive; they've seen the high scores.
Finally, the Dallas Mavericks rule. Yes, I say that every year, and I would say it even the entire roster were filled with portly Laotian women who had no idea with regards to the mechanics of the game. I mean it this year, though. Please go ahead and get on the bandwagon. Then perhaps I can use you as a character witness when I get carried away with a misguided display of affection for Dirk Nowitz, and accidentally cut off the tip of someone's finger. It's Mavs fever; get out the Neosporin!
Posted by Cody at November 14, 2004 8:27 PM