Weekend Musings

Now for some random thoughts from the weekend:

- So I’m leaving the mall on Sunday, and I see this guy in an Iverson jersey. Not a Nuggets one, but a Philly one. On the ballerific scale (I’m trying to use ballerific as much as possible to get it out of my vocabulary. Don’t ask.), where does this rank? I mean, this guy couldn’t possibly not know that Iverson got traded, right? He also had the fully coordinated outfit with it. After thinking about it, I remember how pissed I was that I got rid of my Antoine Walker jersey after he got traded back to Boston, so maybe the guy thought there was a chance that Iverson might go back to Philly. (I know Walker is everything I don’t like about basketball but anyone who answers, “Because they don’t have 4 pointers,” when asked why he shoots so many 3s deserves some respect. That jersey also was responsible for this exchange:

Puerto Rican: Why are you wearing a Celtics jersey in New York?
Me: I’m Irish. If they had a team called the Banana Eaters I’m sure you would rock their jersey.
How I didn’t get my ass kicked is beyond me.)

- My most satisfying moment of the weekend was finding out that Jimmy King of the Fab Five is now working at Merrill Lynch as a financial analyst (wikipedia that shit, it’s true). I’ve now decided that my goal in life should be to accumulate enough money that I can have Jimmy King solely dedicated to my account. That way, I can call him and say things like, “I know the yen is in the crapper, but where did Jalen get that fire truck red pinstripe suit for the draft?” or “How much did Juwan pay for that box haircut? If you say more than $3, you were a shitty financial advisor to him at that point in your life.” I’ve also decided that if I ever win the lottery, when the media asks its obligatory “What will you do with the money?” question, my first response will obviously be “Makin’ it rain, Pacman Jones style.” My next response will be “And give the rest to Jimmy King to invest.” A lot of key decisions were made in my life this weekend.

- So with that in mind, which is the most random Fab Five thing accomplished outside of basketball: Jimmy King working on Wall St, Chris Webber producing a song that ended up on a Nas album that wasn’t Nastradamus, or Jalen Rose being named the only athlete on America's Leading Black Philantropist list? This might take me all week to figure out. Plus, one of their bench players is Kobe’s agent. If I’m ever on Jeopardy, I’d root for categories like “Michigan’s Fab Five” even though there’s not a chance in hell it would happen.

- Speaking of the Fab Five, they gave me an idea on how women’s hoops could be entertaining. They popularized the crotch grab after a dunk. Could this work for the WNBA? How ‘bout rubbing on some titties after a strong drive to the basket? I mean, the ultimate end result would be the whole “pull my jersey across my chest to show my heart” trend going over to the women’s game, but this could be a first step. (And I say this knowing full well that the thought of Sue Bird showing some nip after a shot clock beating jumper during crunch time will be dancing through my head in 8 years when I start going to these games with obviously no chance of it ever happening)

- Caught Fight Club on tv Saturday night. I’m moving toward the whole not letting my possessions own me thing. So much in fact that I’m refusing to put a sheet on my bed. That’s right, just a mattress on the floor baby (Ballerific personified). I don’t need shit besides a bottle of booze. You wouldn’t expect this the same week I got a raise, but a lot of things in my life don’t make sense. Have you read the previous 500 words? There is not one thing that makes sense in there.

- Finally, the Sopranos ended. I didn’t see it (basic cable…FLOSSIN!), but have heard about it. I don’t want to talk about that. I want to tell two stories that show the effect that show had on people. First, I was a college intern and was getting a ride home from an Italian co-worker. The Pulaski Skyway was jammed, so we took the scenic route, which basically turned into her pointing out half the opening credits to the show. It wasn’t that she pointed these out, but the pride that she had in it. You would think these were the works of Michelangelo. That’s the one thing I miss about Jersey, the ridiculous amount of pride they take in The Sopranos.
Secondly, one of my favorite exchanges while hammered off of Henn Rock:

Me: (random Jewish joke)
Chick that’s out of my league, but I somehow think I have a chance with: I’m Jewish
Me to my friend, but loud enough (not on purpose)so that the said chick could hear: Fuck, ain’t that my luck. She’s Jewish, but has the same last name as someone on the Sopranos. Bevilaqua was the kid that got shot last season. And here I am trying not to make spaghetti jokes all night. Fuck, man.
Really out of my league now chick: I’m Italian too.
Me: FUUUCCK

I’ll miss ya Tony.