FAVORITE TEXTERS

FAVORITE KID SINGER

FAVORITE PROM DATE REQUEST

FAVORITE WASTE OF MONEY

FAVORITE WAKE-UP

Yes, I wrote about this a few years ago, but the memory is still very fresh:

A few weeks ago, while out of town, an insightful burglar thought that it would be a good idea to take the GPS from my unlocked car; the oldest and least expensive car on the block, I’m fairly certain (I’m fairly certain because my car is typically the least expensive car on any block). I guess part of the blame goes to me for leaving the car unlocked, but I still feel pretty comfortable placing most of the blame on the person who opened the door and walked away with my property.  Yes, they did get the GPS, but the perpetrator was most successful in just reshuffling all of my trash from the back seat to the front seats.  At the very least, they could’ve been considerate enough to throw a few crumpled up fast food bags away before they left.  I also had my feelings hurt a little bit that they didn’t deem my scratched-up collection of 90s Rock CDs worth taking.  I actually didn’t even know that was in there to begin with, so maybe I should thank them for uncovering it.

These Guys Won’t Tolerate Crime From Any Direction

The following is 100% a true story . . . not to imply that any of the others on this site are fake, but Steve wanted to disperse any doubters right out of the gate on this one:

Many times for a promotion, professional sports teams will have contests that let fans compete for the chance to win prizes and allow them to have their “15 minutes of fame.”  One contest, in particular, happened in New Orleans during the first round of the NBA playoffs last year.  During halftime of one of the Hornets’ games, a lucky fan was called out of his seat and given the opportunity to shoot a half-court shot in front of 25 thousand screaming onlookers.  If he made it, he would win the grand prize.  Amidst all the excitement and jubilation of being selected for the shot, he pulled himself together, gathered his nerves and heaved up the ball from just behind the half court line.  The ball left his hands on target, arched high, approached the basket, and . . . nothing but net!  He nailed the shot!  The arena went crazy and the fan could barely believe what he’d just done.  This was truly a once in a lifetime shot.  He threw his hands in the air, shouting with excitement.  All there was to do now was to await his prize.  Surely a half-court shot, made at the venue of a lucrative professional sports franchise would warrant an enviable reward.  $10,000?  A new car?  Free season tickets?  His mind raced wildly.  All of those would’ve been logical choices, but the good folks at the Hornets franchise instead opted to reward this fan with . . . a year’s supply of Sprite.  They also estimated that a year’s supply was approximately 182 cans (about one every other day).  Using an estimate of $0.50 per can, the total value comes to a measly $91.  Now, I’m not one to scoff at $91 worth of food or beverage, but considering that most people at the arena probably paid 3 times that for their ticket, something doesn’t seem right here.  I think the nicest word that comes to mind is “frugal.”

Maybe bad management decisions like this contributed to the Hornets deciding to rename themselves the Pelicans, beginning with the 2013-14 season.  On a related note, bring the Hornets name back to Charlotte where it belongs!

You Earned It. Enjoy.

There are a few old adages that say “never judge a book by its cover” and “it’s what’s on the inside that counts.”  While those two statements are certainly true, Steve has also found that it’s much more fun to make snap judgements about people and base your entire opinion of someone based on the most minute of details.  Below are a few examples of this from last week:

1)  When I go to Subway to get a sandwich for lunch, I generally serve as judge, jury, and executioner for the person in front of me in line based on their veggie and condiment selection.  “I’ll take a foot-long on wheat bread (OK, fairly healthy, I can respect that), with turkey (good call), with extra ham (whoa, easy there fella), un-toasted, (terrible decision), pepper jack cheese (now you’re getting back on track), black olives (ouch, this order went south in a hurry), double onions (gonna be hard to make up for that choice), sweet onion sauce (nice decision, but too late to save it, buddy), and spinach (that’s the nail in the coffin, enjoy your terrible lunch and waste of your hard-earned money.  The only person to blame is yourself).

As a side note, if the person in front of me pulls out a list, complete with multiple bullet points, with all of their c0-workers’ orders listed, or is relaying an order while on their phone, I might be forced to let out an audible sigh.

Not To Be Creepy, but . . . I’m Watching You

2)  If a car cuts me off in traffic, then I typically make an immediate vow to not vote for the person on their bumper sticker or not support the cause represented by the decals on their rear window.  It’s either that or flip them the bird, so I’m thinking option #1 is best.  Sorry, I used to care about Free-ing Tibet and donating to efforts that Support World Peace, but your atrocious actions behind the wheel have now caused me to rethink and reconfigure my entire personal moral structure.  I will now also never run 13.1 or 26.2 miles, both of which I intended to do tomorrow.