I was having one of those days when I didn’t feel like doing any work. If I were working still working at my cell phone tower company I would have gone down to the 14th floor and paid the network administrator $50 to not track my internet usage for the rest of the day and then I would have gone back to my office and shut the door and logged onto ABC's free full-episode site and watched watched five straight episodes of “Day Break” (starring Taye Diggs as Detective Brett Hopper and Moon Bloodgood as Rita Shelten).
But I no longer work for the cell phone tower company, I work from home, and so I decided to cook some microwave popcorn and watch the Netflix movie I had, The Year of Yao, a movie that stars a Chinese actor who plays a basketball player who travels to the U.S. and overcomes adversity to become a stellar pro player.
The chemical-ish butter on my microwave popcorn smelled strangely like cat urine but the movie was very good. The main character in the movie was very likeable.
After the movie ended, my stepbrother called me, and he said that his full-brother, Vince Young, had started reading this blog, and that he was happy to see that Anson was rooting so hard for his team. After I hung up the phone, I watched Vince’s overtime touchdown run over and over again on YouTube and each time through I felt a little better about myself, the world.
I love Vince Young. I love him like the full-brother of my stepbrother.
Monday, December 11, 2006
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Went to NY this weekend, where talk of Vince Young did not come up once. On Sunday, my friend picked up my wife and I from the airport and drove us to her house, where her husband, who is also my physician, was watching the final eight minutes of the game, so we all sat and watched. And then Vince Young broke that damn game wide open and we all stood up and I high fived my physician and we felt like we had stolen Vince Young away from lesser teams. It was a wonderful feeling.
I was driving back across the border on Sunday evening after a long weekend in Juarez, and the Customs guys pulled me over and searched my car. They took me into the exam room (they’d found a pack of Zig Zags in the cupholder) and Officer Beefy gave me the usual strip search, including cavity probe. Afterward, as Officer Beefy and I sat at a table in the office and I signed away my rights to the rolling papers, the portable television on top of the mini-fridge was showing the day’s football highlights. When the Titans game came up, Officer Beefy turned his chair to get a better view. Onscreen, Vince Young was high-stepping into open space like a freed colt.
“I’m from Tennessee,” I said. “You from Tennessee?”
“Houston,” he said.
“Well,” I said, though I knew it would earn me a night in the tank, “who’s got his fingers up whose ass now?”
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