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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Tuesday, May 31   >>

THE NBA: I LOVE THIS GAME [BUT NOT ITS REPORTERS, OR THE PLAYERS' RESPONSES TO THE REPORTERS, BECAUSE THEY'RE POOR RESPONSES, AND BECAUSE I LOVE RUN-ON SENTENCES]

You know what I'd really love to do? I'd like to mock a physical fight with The Girlfriend in front of my family.

THE GIRLFRIEND: Hey, grab me a Coke, will ya?

HUGO: A COKE? WHY NAHT A PEPS'EH?

TG: I just feel like a Co--

H: YEAH, WELL I FEEL LIKE A KICK IN YA FACE

[KICK PUNT FACE HIT FATALITY FINISH HER]
Then, when my family puts me down, The Girlfriend and I will bow for a stunning performance.

Anyway, I don't think basketball players should ever be interviewed. Have you ever noticed that right when a game ends, a reporter rushes to a key player, asking him really lame questions?

REPORTER: So, how do you think the team held up tonight?

[If it's a player from a losing team]: YEAH well we shoulda played harder, you know, it's like they got more game.

[Player from winning team]: YEAH well we just played the better game.
These guys have, at maximum, double digit IQs and are far too tired to even elaborate on what kind of game had just gone on.

Don't tell me I'm being a prick; tell me the last time you heard an articulate answer from a basketball player right after a game.

Unfortunately, this entry has no clever closer.

OH OH wait!

Served.